


And So Kyoya Met Him! (Again)

by poodlepunk



Series: Once and Again [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Kyoya is taking over the business world, M/M, Slow Burn, Tamaki is that couchsurfing friend from high school who won't grow up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poodlepunk/pseuds/poodlepunk
Summary: Five years after graduation, the host club members have settled into careers and their adult lives. Nobody has heard from Tamaki in over a year. Until one day he shows up to crash on Kyoya’s couch and disrupt his carefully ordered life, a second time.
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Series: Once and Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971526
Comments: 75
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The slow burn Kyoya/Tamaki adult get together fic that nobody asked for (but I’ve been pining for for years...). This follows the anime ending (or alternate universe from the manga). I love Haruhi forever but feel my boy Kyoya was done dirty and I want Tamaki to kiss it better.
> 
> I hope it will bring some small joy to any others feeling nostalgic and missing the host club during this dumpster fire of a year. I'm nanowrimo-ing this fic in September because that's what we do now to escape reality. Any feedback appreciated. Please forgive any mistakes in my Japanese. <3  
> E Rating is for later chapters.

It started with an unexpected call from Haruhi. Kyoya was just getting off of the treadmill, sweat from his morning run pooling in the hollow of his throat. His eyes were fixed on the array of screens listing the rise and fall of the morning markets as he brought his phone to his ear.

“I think I saw him,” Haruhi said, before Kyoya could even get out a greeting.

He allowed a moment for his breathing to calm. His run had left him winded. “Where?” he asked.

“It’s the strangest thing,” said Haruhi. “But I think I saw him in the park near my law school. He went into the rose garden but I have class and I can’t follow him. Kyoya-senpai would you…?”

Kyoya gripped his phone, allowing one harsh breath out of his nose to show his annoyance at the disturbance to his carefully planned day. He debated with himself briefly but it was a forgone conclusion.

“Very well,” he said, and hung up. He carefully set down his phone and replaced his glasses on his nose.

He’d had many similar calls, over the past year. From Hani, a new janitor at the dojo who looked just like him. From Kaoru, a fashion model on the Parisian runway. Kyoya had also seen Tamaki, more than he cared to admit. A certain set to the shoulders of some young man on the street, a musical lilt to the voice of someone at the other end of the bar, golden hair on a tourist sticking out like a sore thumb on the streets of Tokyo. But it was never him.

Since they graduated from Ouran, the host club kept in touch here and there. They were scattered across the world, not as close as they used to be, but everyone checked in. When they were all in town, they met for dinner to catch up. Kyoya felt that this was a good arrangement. He kept the future scions of the most important families close to himself, and with minimal effort.

Things fizzled out between Tamaki and Haruhi, after a while. He knew that. There was a different tone to their group text for months. But eventually it normalized. They went back to the way they had always been. Kyoya felt that this was a good arrangement as well, for reasons he preferred not to explain or examine. More harmonious.

Then, a year and a half ago, when Tamaki and Kyoya were about to graduate from university, Tamaki stopped responding. He lost touch with everyone. The others were hurt, confused. Then concerned. But after extensive searching, they all came to the conclusion that Tamaki did not wish to be found. Kyoya had his own ideas of what had happened, which, given his background knowledge of the situation and penchant for accurate predictions with the appropriate data, he suspected were 99% accurate. But he preferred to keep his ideas to himself.

The Suoh family--Tamaki’s father and grandmother--gave no clues. Everything appeared normal from their end, which Kyoya took to mean that they did not wish to appear weak, having misplaced their one heir apparent. They announced that Tamaki was taking a gap year, kept vague on the details. It’s how he himself would have played it.

He sighed deeply as he walked from his home gym to the living room. He looked through the floor to ceiling windows that stretched across his fifty second floor penthouse. From up here, the Tokyo skyline looked like an impressionist painting, glittering dots that barely made up a coherent whole. _Is he really out there, this time?_

Coming back to himself, he called for his car. He showered and changed quickly into one of the countless, exquisitely tailored suits in his closet. His hair was still damp as he hurried out the door, pulling on a coat and scarf against the February chill.

As he sat in the back seat, checking the profit margins of his newly acquired biomedical company while his driver navigated the traffic, Kyoya began one of his usual ruthless self-examinations. Why was he doing this again? Why, when it was probably nothing, did he always come running? _This is a fool’s errand_ , he chided himself.

Still, as the car pulled up at the entrance to the park, he noticed that his fingers were tapping impatiently on his knee. A strange nervous tic. He must be more annoyed than he thought, to be late for his afternoon meetings.

Per Haruhi’s hurried instructions, he walked briskly into the small rose garden. The roses were trimmed, dull and headless, waiting for spring. Nobody was there. Too late. _It was nothing anyway_ , he told himself. _So foolish to bother._

But meticulous and thorough as he was, he found it difficult to leave a job halfway done. He continued walking through the park. He was aimless, angry with himself, he could have sent one of countless staff to do this. That’s when he saw something that made his heart still.

A dirty vagrant was sleeping on one of the park benches. Kyoya would have passed, looking away, but underneath the young man’s beanie, a shock of brilliant yellow hair peeked out. Could it be? Kyoya walked closer. No. It couldn’t be. This could not be Tamaki Suoh, legendary heartthrob of Ouran Academy. This was a scraggly hobo.

But as Kyoya’s footsteps drew nearer, eyes opened, and they were that unbelievable, vivid violet that couldn’t belong to anyone else.

“Kyoya!” Tamaki exclaimed, springing to his feet. “It really is you!”

Instinctively, Kyoya felt himself backing away. But Tamaki was already coming closer, pressing into his personal space.

Since the last time he had seen Tamaki, almost three years ago now, Kyoya had spent his time among business associates who bowed to each other. He rarely had occasion for even a western style handshake. But Tamaki, western and worse _French_ , the country of the double kiss in greeting, wasn’t having it.

He threw his arms around Kyoya, and pulled him close. When this happened, Kyoya noticed and catalogued three things. First, the smell was overpowering. It had been some time since Tamaki last showered. Second, Tamaki felt thin and birdlike against him. He hadn’t been eating well or taking care of himself. Third, Kyoya noticed his own heart speed from a canter to a gallop in his chest. He did not know exactly what to make of that, but his prediction, which was likely to be 99% accurate as were all his predictions, was that it meant he was in big trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

After a minute, Tamaki released Kyoya, whose arms were clamped firmly against his sides, enduring the hug.

“Kyoooooya! I’m so happy to see you,” Tamaki said. He bounced. He practically vibrated with his barely contained excitement. “It’s been so long. You look well!”

Kyoya wished that he could say the same. His gaze flickered up and down, quickly studying Tamaki’s unkempt appearance. Tamaki was wearing that awful beanie over his hair--which had grown too long, hanging into his eyes. He was unshaven, his jawline showed the stubble of at least a week. He had on jeans and a loose flannel shirt, warm but hardly enough for the freezing February day. On the park bench behind him sat an enormous backpack. When Tamaki shouldered it, it made him look like one of the many foreign tourists backpacking and staying in hostels throughout the city.

Kyoya might have easily passed Tamaki without a backward glance if he hadn’t been looking. Well, he chided himself, perhaps that wasn’t true. Even dressed down, and looking too thin by far in Kyoya’s opinion, Tamaki was still arresting to the eye. Always a handsome prince, in any costume.

“Tamaki. It’s good to see you. Where have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been traveling all over. Having a great time. Doing all kinds of things.”

Kyoya contained an impatient sigh at the vague answer. “Everyone has been looking for you. All of your friends have been worried.”

“Oh,” said Tamaki. He looked down briefly, then back up, eyes shining. “That’s so nice of them! Sorry I haven’t been in touch. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been perfectly well! Just spending some time on my own. They’ll all understand, don’t you think?”

Kyoya had no response to that. He, of course, did not understand any of Tamaki’s decisions that had led to this. True wealth and power had always been Kyoya’s greatest desires. Tamaki was born to these things, and yet here he stood, shivering in the cold after sleeping on a park bench.

“Have you recently returned to Tokyo? Where are you staying?” Kyoya eyed the backpack, and had his suspicions.

“Here and there,” Tamaki said airily. He smiled a brilliant smile. “Hey, are you busy now? Maybe I can buy you a coffee. Let’s catch up!”

Kyoya glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting coming up soon.”

“Ah, I see,” said Tamaki. His smile slipped for a moment, and that did something to Kyoya. It made him feel sixteen, uncomfortable and itchy in his skin.

“You should really contact your family,” Kyoya began. “Do they know that you’re back in Japan?”

“No!” said Tamaki. “No one does. And I...want to keep it that way. In fact, I’d better get going. I’ve been enjoying the park but it’s getting cold. Have to figure out where I’ll be staying tonight.”

He turned to go, and Kyoya felt suddenly adrift. After more than a year of searching, to only see Tamaki for one minute…

Kyoya was a master negotiator, but it was always difficult to negotiate with Tamaki, whose mind zigged and zagged in unpredictable patterns. Whose motivations Kyoya had always found unusual and difficult to grasp. He wondered what to say to hold him back.

“Wait!” Kyoya called, and Tamaki paused. “Perhaps you’d like to visit me and see where I live.” It was a fairly desperate gambit, banking on his high school memories of the way Tamaki adored visiting all of the Host Club’s homes, the way he loved to examine and pick up objects, asking questions about everything, eyes lighting up at each new fact he learned. Tamaki loved to know people, in every way, to know their highs and lows, their loves and hates, their homes and habits. That’s what made it so strange, when he dropped off the grid over a year ago, cut all contact.

He visibly brightened at Kyoya’s suggestion, and Kyoya let out a long breath.

“Yeah! I’d love that!” His brilliant smile was back.

“Perfect,” Kyoya said. “My car is this way.”

Tamaki followed Kyoya back to his car like an obedient puppy, but before getting in, he stopped. “Kyoya,” he said, his eyes serious, “promise me you won’t tell anyone about me being here.”

Kyoya considered. _Why should I_? was on the tip of his tongue. The advantageous play would be to reunite Tamaki with his family. It would secure an ally of the future Suoh heir, put everything back in its rightful place. Still...perhaps not yet. It wouldn’t do to startle his old friend, to drive him underground again. He nodded his head, and Tamaki cheerfully joined him in the car.

Tamaki talked animatedly for the entire ride, but about nothing of consequence. It was one of his particular skills, as Kyoya remembered, the ability to gracefully fill silence. When they reached Kyoya’s penthouse, Tamaki was abuzz with excitement as soon as they stepped through the door.

Kyoya did not know that there was much of particular interest. He kept the place fairly spartan, utilitarian. All of the furniture was either an exquisite piece of modern design or a carefully selected priceless antique. But otherwise, there was not much decoration to the place. Not much of himself.

Tamaki took off his shoes in the entryway, putting his backpack down as well. He watched Kyoya place his keys on the glass end table there. He followed Kyoya into the living room, marveling as he looked out at the stunning view of the city. Kyoya often marveled at it too. The breadth and scope of it was so different from the peaceful grounds and gardens of their childhood.

Tamaki asked for a tour, so Kyoya showed him the few other rooms. The gym complete with treadmill, bicycle, weights. In the next room over, a swimming pool, a sauna, a huge marble onsen to bathe in while looking out over the city. Then Kyoya’s office, wood paneled, the floor to ceiling bookshelves packed with economic and philosophical treatises.

They passed through the formal dining room, lined with modern chairs and glass table. One traditional painting that cost almost as much as the penthouse itself. Tamaki wanted to see the kitchen, which Kyoya rarely ventured into and certainly never used. _Shiny_ , was his one comment, looking around at the gleaming chrome appliances. 

Kyoya didn’t think to show him the bedroom. That seemed too personal. 

Finally they came to the solarium, where enormous glass panes looked out on a perfectly centered view of the Tokyo Sky Tree tower. Tamaki came to a dead stop upon entering the room.

“Oh,” he breathed. “You have a piano.”

Kyoya looked at the piano, as though seeing it for the first time. Yes, he did have one. The highest end piano he could find, chosen by his antique dealer. He didn’t remember why he bought it, exactly. It seemed to balance the room. It looked right there. He’d spent so much time in a music room growing up, he supposed it just made him feel comfortable.

Tamaki was giving the piano a longing look. He approached it slowly, like he was answering a gravitational pull. 

“May I?” he asked, his hand hovering over the keys.

“Of course,” said Kyoya.

Tamaki tested a few notes, cocking his head to the side to listen as they reverberated in the room. “Wonderful,” he said. “Do you play? Or does--someone else play for you?”

Kyoya smiled. “No one but the piano tuner.”

“Ah,” said Tamaki. “That’s a shame.”

“You’re welcome to play it anytime you like,” said Kyoya. Tamaki beamed at him, and as if on cue the sun burst out from between the gray afternoon clouds, and weak February light flooded the room.

“I have to make a call in the study,” Kyoya informed him, as they returned to the living room. “But please make yourself comfortable for a few minutes.”

Tamaki sat down on the living room sofa, a curving white leather sectional, chosen more for its appearance than to ever be used.

“Kyoya! This chair is so uncomfortable! I’m surprised you keep it,” Tamaki complained.

Kyoya smiled thinly. “It discourages visitors,” he said, and Tamaki laughed.

Kyoya went into his office and called his assistant. He had her reschedule his afternoon meetings with his deep apologies. He could hear the surprise in her voice as she hurriedly agreed. He, too, could not remember the last time such a thing had happened.

 _There was nothing of importance today anyway_ , he told himself. His empire practically ran itself. He still sought to be named as his father's successor, but learning from his time as Ouran's Shadow King, he also hedged his bets. Outside of working at the Ootori Group, Kyoya had grown and grown and grown his personal wealth, amassing a fortune of his own that was quickly rivaling his inheritance. Now he had so much money that it produced more money no matter what he did. Though of course he never left such things to chance. 

When he came back into the living room, he found Tamaki lying down, fast asleep on the supposedly uncomfortable couch. He rolled his eyes, and went to fetch a blanket, draping it neatly over his sleeping friend.

The hazy afternoon light painted Tamaki with golden shadows, making him into a sleeping beauty. Of course the light loved him from every angle. Kyoya knew this, from the years he had spent exploiting Tamaki’s image for profit.

This entire day felt strange, faintly unreal. It had been so long since Kyoya last varied from his routine. He asked himself why he had gone out of his way, veered from his schedule to find Tamaki in the garden. It made sense when they were younger, when he was gathering allies at his father’s behest. It made sense to go out of his way to accommodate Tamaki, back then. At this point, Tamaki knew him. There was no one to impress.

 _Why am I doing this, then?_ he wondered. _What could be in this for me?_


	3. Chapter 3

For the rest of the day, nothing roused Tamaki. He continued to sleep soundly on Kyoya’s couch, despite several polite, pointed coughs, and even a large book falling loudly to the floor near his head. After a while, Kyoya retreated to his study to do some work.

Around midnight, when Kyoya usually went to bed, Tamaki was still sleeping soundly. Kyoya was not sure of the protocol in this situation. He called building security and asked them to alert him if Tamaki left the penthouse, so that he would at least be able to say goodbye if his friend left in the night.

Then he went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, jolting awake every time he thought he heard the slightest sound. He wasn’t used to having someone else in his home. Once, he thought he heard the sound of a door closing, so he padded out to the living room to check, but Tamaki was still curled up on the sofa, bathed in moonlight, snoring softly. 

When his alarm went off at 6 a.m., Kyoya rolled over, groaned miserably, and pressed snooze. But he was awakened again almost instantly by the chirp of text alerts from his phone. One alert. Two alerts. Three alerts. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and opened his lock screen, squinted at whatever the crisis was.

There was a series of five frantic texts from his sister, Fuyumi.

“Kyoya I heard from Father that you took the afternoon off yesterday!”

“Why would you miss work you never miss work??”

“Are you ok?????”

“Are you sick? Would you like me to drop by to take care of you?”

“Kidnapped?? Just call me and breathe without saying anything and I’ll send the private army.” 

Kyoya sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over his face. “Everything is fine,” he responded. Then, he hesitated, and typed out, “A friend is in town.”

“A friend???!” came the instant response. “Suoh-san?” followed by a series of rainbow and glitter heart emojis. Of course she would guess. 

Kyoya, remembering his promise to Tamaki, merely wrote back, “I will be in the office today.”

Putting his feet into his slippers, he cautiously made his way into the living room. Tamaki was not there, but Kyoya noted that his giant backpack was still on the living room floor. There was the sound of voices from the dining room.

Kyoya made his way there, and found Tamaki sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by breakfast dishes, chatting animatedly with Kyoya’s private chef. Kyoya normally sat down to breakfast and then left the house without ever seeing the woman. He preferred for his staff to leave him in peace without disruption. She was giggling at something Tamaki was saying, blushing furiously, spooning paddle after paddle of rice into Tamaki’s already overflowing bowl.

Kyoya cleared his throat, and they both looked over, the chef a bit guiltily, Tamaki with a sunny smile.

“Kyoya!! Good morning!” he cried. “I’m so sorry I fell asleep yesterday. Jet lag really got to me. Come on, sit down, let’s have breakfast!”

Kyoya smiled tightly at this invitation to sit down at his own table and eat his own food. The chef bowed and hurriedly returned to the kitchen. Kyoya noted with displeasure that the bowl of natto on the table was already empty.

“So you slept well?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” said Tamaki, shaving down his mountain of rice by scooping some into Kyoya’s bowl. “Even though your couch is so pointy and poky! It’s the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, you’re welcome to it whenever you like,” said Kyoya. Not thinking much of the offhand remark. He reached out to take a sip of his morning tea.

“Really?” asked Tamaki, his eyes shining suspiciously. “Wow! Thank you Kyoya! In fact, I’ll take you up on it. I haven’t really decided where to stay just yet. It would be great to stay with you for a while.”

Kyoya paused, the teacup against his lips. He placed the cup carefully back down in its saucer. “Of course I am happy to host you,” he said with placid politeness. “Although perhaps you would be more comfortable in a hotel. I’d be glad to arrange one for you.”

“Nonsense. I’d love to stay. We’ll have so much time to catch up. And otherwise you won’t even know I’m here!”

He gave Kyoya his signature winning smile.

Kyoya’s mind turned this over. He’d been searching for his old school friend for over a year, with the goal of reuniting Tamaki with his family, of Tamaki taking his rightful place. That was advantageous to him. It was not advantageous to have Tamaki as a secret house guest for an indeterminate amount of time. 

Still, there was room for a bit of calculated risk. Perhaps after a few days of entertaining Tamaki, as he had when they were teenagers, this willful mood would pass. Kyoya smiled back, and said, a bit too evenly, “Of course.”

~~~

The first week, it was true, he hardly knew that Tamaki was there. Kyoya had a punishing schedule that kept him at the office from early morning to late evening. Sometimes Tamaki would be out of the house when he got home, doing who knows what. Other times Tamaki would join Kyoya for his evening meal, chatting animatedly when Kyoya just wanted to rest and be left alone.

During the week, Kyoya was always busy with work. On the weekends, his schedule was filled with social functions meant to advance his business interests. Lunch with the senior partners of a vulnerable shipping conglomerate. Tennis with the prime minister’s favorite nephew. The occasional society party, which he attended under heavy duress from his sister. He was still young, twenty three, for an arranged marriage. She always encouraged him to look for a love match while he had the chance.

Kyoya never had enough hours and there was always so much to fill the ones he did have. _What did Tamaki do all day?_ he started to wonder, during the first week of watching the other young man lay around his apartment. Laziness frustrated Kyoya. He worked himself to the bone. He didn’t exactly need to, at this point. But it was just the right thing, the proper thing. It was how one was supposed to act. 

Tamaki was usually still sleeping by the time Kyoya left for the office, which made Kyoya, never a morning person, especially bitter. When Kyoya came back, Tamaki would be sitting on the couch watching a game show, he’d be doodling in a notebook, he’d be playing with stickers he bought—with who knew what money—at the Sanrio Ginza store.

He never even played the piano, the one thing he used to do that Kyoya considered useful. During their meals together, Tamaki would talk about his adventures of the day, how he rode the subway, found an amazing snack shop at the train station, made friends with a group of old ladies at a pachinko parlor. These chats were often punctuated by comments about Kyoya’s miserably uncomfortable couch.

Kyoya did wonder how Tamaki was financing all these adventures. Tamaki never asked Kyoya for money (though he did eat his food more often than not). Kyoya knew Tamaki wasn’t in touch with his family, and he wasn't working, so he had no source of income. Where had he been all this time? But whenever Kyoya found a new way to broach the question, Tamaki found a new way to evade.

By the second week, Kyoya started to notice Tamaki’s presence in his home. Tamaki made himself known by "helping" in various ways.

Kyoya had a housekeeper to take care of his household tasks. Still, Tamaki could sometimes be seen vacuuming in the evenings. He went to the market and bought flowers, putting them in water in a priceless antique vase. Tamaki did his own laundry and threw in a few of Kyoya’s suits, running them through the dryer.

Kyoya had a private chef. But one night he came home to find Tamaki cooking in the kitchen.

“I made Katsu!" Tamaki exclaimed proudly. "Here try some! Oops, I forgot to tell you it’s still hot. Fresh out of the oven.”

“Ngh,” said Kyoya, fanning his scorched mouth. 

Valentine’s Day passed in a red and pink haze. So many women at the office gave Kyoya chocolates, that he had to start an enormous spreadsheet of colleagues he owed gifts to on White Day. He came home, annoyed with the whole frivolous holiday, to find his apartment looking like a cupid had vomited all over it. Streamers, glitter, heart shaped balloons.

“Kyoya! I thought it would be fun to celebrate! Oh, are some of those chocolates for me?”

For the first two weeks, Tamaki tolerated Kyoya’s long absences. But by the third week, he started complaining that Kyoya was working too much. He invited Kyoya to join him on his various silly adventures, and as his host, Kyoya felt it was only polite to oblige. He found himself canceling more and more of his social obligations, especially for the weekend.

“You know, Kyoya, it’s been so long since I’ve been in Tokyo. I want to do everything I never got to do when we were at Ouran.”

He dragged Kyoya to the park, even though the weather was freezing and all the flowers were dead. He insisted on a visit to the aquarium, watched the seals playing and frolicking with fascination. Kyoya preferred the jellyfish drifting peacefully in their huge glass tanks, thinking enviously of their quiet home lives as he watched them.

They wandered around Tsukiji fish market early in the morning, but Tamaki complained the whole time that he could barely walk because Kyoya’s couch had thrown out his back. Then he forced Kyoya to try the Sakura themed lattes that everyone was so excited about, popping up at the commoner coffee shops on every corner.

“Too sweet, disgusting,” Kyoya remarked, as Tamaki slurped his down.

Things started to collect, to clutter Kyoya’s apartment. The commemorative photo Tamaki insisted on from their visit to Tokyo tower. The snow globes from the limited edition winter display at the mall. A large, plushie Bulbasaur from their trip to the Pokémon cafe.

Tamaki showed no sign of leaving, or of returning to his family home.

 _Why why why why why am I doing this to myself_ , Kyoya despaired. His favorite suit had been ruined. His taste buds were practically burnt off from Tamaki’s kitchen adventure. Glitter was everywhere. Nothing was getting done around the house—there was a layer of dust on the mantle growing ever since Tamaki told his housekeeper that she had “eyes like the rain after a summer storm.” The situation was becoming intolerable.

If this went on any longer, he was going to throttle Tamaki, Kyoya thought, as he clicked next day delivery on his order for a plush, new couch. Very comfortable for sleeping on, according to all the reviews. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Let’s take another trip to Kyoto!” said Tamaki, in the last week of February. At that point, he had been living on Kyoya’s couch for almost a month. Kyoya didn’t answer at first, eyes focused on his laptop as he added another note to tomorrow’s corporate buyout presentation.

“You have Monday off for the long weekend, don’t you?” Tamaki persisted.

Kyoya glanced up from his laptop. He had taken to working in the living room in the evenings instead of his study, sitting beside Tamaki as his friend doodled in his ever-present notebook, or watched episode after episode of Terrace House. The new couch really was comfortable.

“Yes,” Kyoya said slowly. “I do, but I’m very busy. It will be difficult to reschedule everything on such short notice.”

He went back to reviewing the presentation in front of him, adding a percentage to one of the pie charts.

“ _Please_ Kyoya! I’ll take care of the whole trip. I’ll plan everything this time! I was actually thinking...maybe we can visit Hani and Mori while we’re there.”

That got Kyoya’s attention. Since his strange disappearance and return, Tamaki hadn’t expressed interest in any part of his old life, or any of his old friends. Perhaps finally seeing a few of the others would jolt him out of the stupor he had fallen into. And get him out of Kyoya’s apartment.

“That could be interesting...although perhaps my assistant should take care of the planning…”

“I’m happy to do it,” said Tamaki. “Since you planned that great trip for us in middle school, I owe you one!”

“Well, maybe. I should at least review the itinerary...” said Kyoya, feeling his control of the situation beginning to slip.

“Nope, it’ll be a surprise!”

“Great,” said Kyoya. “Great.”

~~~

Kyoya would have chosen to take his private helicopter, but Tamaki got them tickets to Kyoto via the Shinkansen. Not first class, Kyoya noted nervously. But the train car was relatively empty. They even got seats on the Mt. Fuji side, so that they would have a view as they passed by.

The ride was three hours long. Kyoya had allotted that precise amount of time to finish up several tasks for work, but he forgot to account for the time that Tamaki would spend distracting him. There was a lot of marveling at the beauty of the passing landscape, and then Tamaki continually drew his attention to the majestic snow capped mountain on their right. It was beautiful. Kyoya probably wouldn’t have looked up at it, otherwise.

“I made us bentos for the train!” said Tamaki as lunchtime arrived. He produced two boxes, so proudly that Kyoya couldn’t help the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

Remembering his previous misadventures with Tamaki’s cooking, Kyoya took a very cautious bite. Tamaki was watching him intensely. “It’s good,” said Kyoya, and Tamaki’s answering smile was so bright it could have powered the train all the way to their destination.

“So what are Hani and Mori doing in Kyoto?” Tamaki asked.

“I don’t believe they’re allowed to discuss it,” said Kyoya. “But I suspect they have a training facility for elite squadrons of various national armed forces there.”

“Wow...cool,” said Tamaki.

“It’s about what I would expect of them,” Kyoya replied.

For the rest of the ride, Kyoya worked and Tamaki wrote in his notebook. By the time they arrived, it was evening. It was much colder in Kyoto than in Tokyo, and the wind sliced through Kyoya as he wheeled his suitcase down the platform to the cab stand. Tamaki gave the driver instructions, and the cab dropped them off in front of a small, traditional style building.

They entered the ryokan, very clean and charming, Kyoya noted, though not the five star hotel he would have chosen. The room they were shown to was small and incredibly narrow, the floor covered with tatami mats in the traditional style.

Kyoya was skeptical, but the kind proprietors brought dinner and the food was very good. Kyoya enjoyed it while Tamaki charmed the elderly couple with stories and plied them for travel tips. They dotingly piled more and more food on Tamaki’s plate--a common occurrence, for him, Kyoya noted. He was starting to look a bit more like his old self, the hollows in his cheeks filling out.

They stayed in the room for the evening, sitting on the floor and working companionably at the low table, Tamaki in his notebook, Kyoya on his laptop.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Tamaki finally broke the silence. “Big day of adventures tomorrow! And the next day we’ll get to catch up with Hani and Mori.”

Kyoya saved his file, stood and stretched. They took turns in the bathroom, and when Kyoya returned, Tamaki was already under the covers in bed. There were two twin size futons on the floor. Because of the narrowness of the room, they were very close together. If Kyoya stretched out his arms, he would probably hit Tamaki in the face.

When they turned out the lights it was incredibly dark and quiet, in this sleepy neighborhood, away from the city bustle. At first, it was annoying to have Tamaki so close. Kyoya was used to sleeping in total privacy and silence. Tamaki snored lightly, flinging out his limbs now and then. Kyoya was startled awake by his every shift and movement. It was a little too warm in the room, and sleeping Tamaki gave off heat like a furnace. But after a while, Tamaki quieted, and Kyoya drifted off listening to the deep, even rhythm of his breathing.

~~~

“Kyoya, good morning!”

Kyoya groaned. “Is it before 10:00 on a weekend?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“Then don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even think about me.”

“But Kyoya! We’re on vacation!”

Kyoya cracked open one dangerous eye. Luckily for Tamaki, he was holding two cups of coffee in his hands. He offered one, and Kyoya reluctantly sat up to accept it. After drinking it, Tamaki lured him out to the table with the smell of breakfast.

After they finished eating they took a cab to the Gion district. Kyoya was bracing himself, remembering how during their middle school trip, Tamaki’s relentless sightseeing demands and quickly shifting whims had nearly given him whiplash. But Tamaki seemed content to wander and explore at a leisurely pace this time.

They walked around the old, quaint looking buildings and souvenir shops. Kyoya bought some beautiful antique dishes to ship back to Tokyo. Tamaki bought some local sweets and good luck charms. There were stray cats everywhere. Tamaki kept pointing them out, peering after them with his usual inquisitiveness.

The weather was freezing, the sky cloudy with occasional bursts of weak, winter sun. There were very few tourists or other shoppers out for the day. It felt like they had the whole city to themselves.

After a warm, fortifying bowl of soba for lunch, they huffed and puffed up the steep hill to Kiyomizu-dera. The beautiful, ancient temple sat among the trees high above Gion. At the top of the hill, they took in the stunning view of the city below. The clouds and fog rolled peacefully over the distant mountains, and looking out, leaning on the railing beside Tamaki, Kyoya felt his mind becoming quiet in a way it rarely ever did.

They went into the temple, where it was dim and full of hushed voices, the smell of wood and incense.

“Let’s make wishes,” said Tamaki, providing them each with a small golden coin.

Kyoya examined his. Everyone around him was bowing, praying. _What am I wishing for_? he thought. _What is left to wish for when you have achieved all you were meant to achieve?_

But Tamaki was holding his coin in a tight fist, eyes closed, lips moving fervently. He looked like he had some idea, some deep hope. _I wish for him to have what he’s wishing for_ , Kyoya thought, and tossed his coin in the box.

It was too early for cherry blossoms, but Tamaki had heard of a local shrine where the plum blossoms were on display. They walked there as the late afternoon faded towards evening. After paying their respects at the shrine, they wandered among the trees, which were just beginning to flower. At sunset, it finally started to snow.

Kyoya felt something that was almost like sadness, at the beauty of the scene. The white flowers, the snow coming down over the torii gate, white crystals catching in Tamaki’s hair and on the shoulders of his coat.

It was very cold, and starting to get dark. “Should we grab a bite in town before heading back?” asked Tamaki.

Kyoya smiled and pulled out his phone. “Since you’ve planned the day for us, at least let me take care of dinner,” he said.

Kyoya called for a car and it dropped them off in front of an exclusive, members-only kaiseki restaurant. Normally reservations took months to secure, but the Ootori group often entertained clients there, and the hosts were all too eager to offer the private room.

“Kyoya!!!” cried Tamaki, delighted, as soon as he walked into the paper paneled room. “A kotatsu!”

“Yes,” said Kyoya mildly. “Perfect on a day like this.”

The room was warm and bright, their feet cozy under the table, the restaurant showered them with drinks and extra courses in honor of having Kyoya Ootori himself visiting their establishment.

After a few glasses of sake, they both started having laughing fits recounting their wild school day antics.

“We were such idiots in high school,” Tamaki said.

“And you were the King of the idiots,” Kyoya agreed.

Tamaki grimaced. “I know. I feel awful about some things. Remember the last time we came here? I know I was a handful. That’s why I thought this time we should just take it easy and relax. You work so hard, it’s good for you to relax once in a while.”

“Mm,” said Kyoya thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right. I actually did have a good time today.”

Tamaki beamed, at that. “I’m glad. And I’m sorry if I’ve been a pain to have around the last few weeks. I’m still trying to figure out how to live on my own.”

He almost invited the question, why. Why was he doing all this, living in secrecy, hiding from his family. Kyoya could have asked it, but something made him hesitate. 

Instead he merely said, a flat out lie, “It’s been no great inconvenience to have you.”

“Good,” Tamaki said. “I was sort of hoping...this trip could help us to be close again. Close like we used to be. Before. You know what I mean.”

Kyoya did know, but they had never acknowledged it. The subtle shift between them, near the end of high school. Tamaki seemed happy with Haruhi, he followed his grandmother’s orders, it seemed likely that he would be chosen as the Suoh family heir. But Kyoya sensed Tamaki’s unhappiness, sensed that he was feeling increasingly walled in by the pressures of his life and family. He could have done something, to help. Instead, Kyoya subtly, gently pulled away. He had never thought about it deeply, but some sense of self preservation had kept him from meddling in Tamaki’s affairs. He watched it happen, the distance between them increasing.

Kyoya himself thought it was so subtle, so gentle, that Tamaki would never know. But his friend’s eyes had always been sharper than Kyoya gave him credit for.

“We’re close, Tamaki,” said Kyoya. “I hope we always will be.”

And something charged passed between them, for a moment, before the waiter came in with their next course. For the rest of the evening they talked of lighter topics, and the sake kept flowing. By the time they were poured out of the taxi, Kyoya had only a vague, hazy memory of their trip back to the ryokan.

They both fell asleep easily, but Kyoya woke up at two in the morning when the heat in the building went out. Kyoya could see his breath curling in the blue shadows of the room. Tamaki was still sleeping peacefully but Kyoya, shivering, couldn’t fall back to sleep. He shifted, moving his futon, edging closer and closer to Tamaki until the two sleeping mats were almost touching. He thought that his friend wouldn’t mind. Tamaki was warm enough for the both of them.

~~~

The next day they met Hani and Mori at a tea house in the middle of a beautiful garden. The tea house had glass walls, so it felt like they were outdoors surrounded by green and growing things, even on such a cold day.

“Tama-chan!” Hani cried, while Mori nodded distantly.

Kyoya noted that Tamaki did not hug either of them, though he did give Hani’s bunny, Usa-chan, a tender pat on the head. Perhaps Tamaki was finally relearning the rules of etiquette in Japan.

They sat down and Mori poured the tea.

“Tama-chan you look too skinny,” Hani said, and piled more sweets onto Tamaki’s plate.

“Thank you, Hani-senpai,” said Tamaki, holding out a hand to try to stem the nonstop flow of tiny cakes.

“We’re good at keeping secrets,” Hani continued. “Aren’t we Takashi? So maybe you can tell us where you’ve been.”

Tamaki laughed and waved vaguely. “I’ve been traveling a bit. Trying to find myself. I’ve just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I understand,” said Hani, giving him a serious look. “It reminds me of when you convinced me to join the Host Club. Sometimes, you have to just be true to yourself, even if it’s hard, or it might bother other people. I hope you’re finding yourself well!”

“Thank you,” said Tamaki. “I am.”

They chatted and caught up for the rest of the tea, and then parted as friends, with promises to see each other soon.

“Kyoya, we’ll see you at the Ootori family benefit ball in April!” said Hani. 

“Tamaki,” said Mori, the first thing he had really said, his deep, bass voice laced with authority. He dropped a heavy hand onto Tamaki’s shoulder. “Don’t disappear again.”

“Mori-senpai,” said Tamaki. He looked faintly overcome, but then he dredged up his usual bright smile and gave a thumbs up. “I won’t!”

Kyoya had to work the next day, so they returned to the train station and used their return tickets on the Shinkansen. Tamaki took the aisle and Kyoya got the window seat this time. The weekend had been long and full of activity, Kyoya reflected, as he watched the scenery pass by.

The afternoon light slanted through the windows, the train swayed in a lulling rhythm. Tamaki fell asleep and his head drifted to rest on Kyoya’s shoulder.

 _I should wake him up, or at least push him away_ , Kyoya thought, but he didn’t, as the train rumbled on for miles and miles and miles. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is meant to follow the anime ending, but this chapter shows the point where the story diverges from the manga canon. Incidentally, how cute was everyone in the manga? What was up with those two panels where Tamaki gave Kyoya a back rub? I’m still not over it.

Kyoya sat beside his brothers on the raised platform, looking out at a sea of politely attentive faces. He blinked a little at the camera flashes that kept going off from the reporters in the front row. His father’s speech continued from the podium, where he was strategically positioned among festive banners and a handful of trustworthy looking employees in lab coats. The speech had been going on for some time. Kyoya, very subtly, checked his watch.

“Somewhere to be?” asked his brother, Akito, out of the corner of his mouth.

“The cold is making people restless,” Kyoya replied. “Someone should have written a shorter speech for the outdoors in March.”

“It’s not that cold,” Akito, the speechwriter, snapped.

“And finally,” their father continued into the microphone, “I would like to thank my sons, the three Senior Vice Presidents of the Ootori Group, for their work during the planning and design of this new hospital and research facility.”

A thunder of applause followed. Everyone adjourned to the tents that were set up on the lawn to enjoy hors d'oeuvres and heat lamps. Kyoya remained behind, hesitating to the side of the stage that had been erected for his father’s dedication speech. His gaze wandered beyond the festivities, surveying the large, impressive building, the new hospital that had taken so much time and attention to pull from his thoughts into reality. He felt a momentary satisfaction. Then he glanced at his watch again.

He would have to show his face for at least a few minutes at the reception, he decided, and began making his way toward the light and noise of the party.

“Kyoya,” his father’s voice cut through the cool evening air. His father was descending from the platform, flanked by many secretaries. Kyoya stopped and turned to face him. His father waved the others on, walking alone towards his youngest son.

“What can I do for you, Father?” Kyoya was a little taller than his father now, and he stood straighter as his father approached, hid his cold hands in his coat pockets. 

“I’d like you to greet the transportation minister tonight and follow up on our proposal for special emergency vehicle access to the facility.”

“Of course,” said Kyoya. But there was something more. Something that would make his father speak to him privately. Kyoya felt the muscles of his abdomen clenching, as though preparing to take a blow, and consciously relaxed them.

“I’ve heard several reports that you have been distracted lately. Canceling meetings and social engagements. Is this true?”

 _Several reports? Hmm..._ Kyoya thought that he had already identified all of his father’s spies among his own staff, but the old man was wily, perhaps it was time for another check through his most trusted lieutenants.

“My focus is always with my work, Father,” Kyoya replied calmly. “You’ll find that my numbers are up in every department.”

“Be that as it may, considering your recent lack of attention, I asked your brother to look into some of your activities.”

Resting casually in his coat pocket, Kyoya’s hand clenched into a fist.

“He found it interesting that you reopened a clinical trial the Ootori Group previously deemed too unprofitable to pursue. And you funded it through corporations that were your personal investments. Now the drug is ready to go to market, from what I understand.”

“Yes,” said Kyoya. “I saw long term potential in that abandoned project.”

“And now that it has proven successful, you stand to gain quite a bit yourself due to your personal investment. But it was a gamble to reopen research into a cure for such a rare disease.”

Kyoya smiled his guileless, performative smile. “The result has been positive. Isn’t that what matters?”

His father let out a low chuckle.

“The reason why also matters, on occasion. You may be the best at managing money, and your...creative methods have helped the family at critical junctures. But you lack the medical and business experience of your brothers. A lapse in attention is something you can ill afford. Mind that the distraction does not continue.”

Kyoya nodded and his father swept past, leaving him behind. How had his father connected his distraction lately with the successful trial? He should have hidden his intentions better. Every step he took at the company was watched, even his personal investments were tests. His father gave him his trust fund when he came of age. _Play money,_ he called it. _L_ _et’s see what you do with it._

Kyoya thought of Tamaki, whose grandmother controlled him throughout high school and college, kept him in luxury but never gave him a penny, dangled his sickly, impoverished mother just out of reach. It must have been so frustrating, unbearable.

Kyoya’s father had other ways of controlling him, of course. His pride, his ambition, the game of succession. The knowledge that no matter how much wealth he gained, his value would always be determined by one thing.

He passed into the warmth of the tent, into the expensive, glittering crowd, and went to do his father’s bidding.

~~~

Kyoya glanced at his watch again guiltily as he climbed the steps to the newly built hospital. He was quite late meeting Tamaki. The speech ran long, and the transportation minister had proven difficult to charm until plied with a few of the finest Japanese whiskeys.

They had agreed to meet at the entrance to the children’s ward, far enough from the celebration that none of the socialite attendees would recognize the incognito heir. For some reason, Tamaki insisted on meeting him at the hospital, because he had found the best hotpot restaurant in Tokyo nearby and, as usual of late, it was Kyoya’s duty to accompany him.

“Did you see a blond idiot come through here?” Kyoya asked the receptionist at the front desk, when he couldn’t find Tamaki or get him to answer his phone.

“Oh!!!!” she exclaimed, stars in her eyes, “you mean that absolutely gorgeous guy? Some of the families were asking him to join them, so I let him go into the entertainment room.” She leaned forward to whisper, “Is he in a boy band? I mean...that hair. Those eyes. Tell him that I have more pens here if he needs!”

“Thanks,” said Kyoya as he brushed by.

He found the entertainment room at the end of the hall. It was actually his own suggestion. Some leftover Host Club instinct to make the place more cheerful and comfortable, full of things to brighten up the facility for ill children and their families. Toys, games, musical instruments. _Ah_ , he thought, as he heard the sound of a piano coming down the hallway.

But it wasn’t exactly music. More a loud, terrible plonking of piano keys. He winced as he got closer. Surely, even without practicing for all this time, Tamaki couldn’t have grown so terrible.

He paused in the hallway, looking through the window into the entertainment room. Tamaki was, indeed, seated at the piano bench, surrounded by a few children and their families. A little girl sat at the piano beside him.

“Very good, Masami-chan! Way to go! And this one up here is the D chord, see?” Tamaki played a beautiful flourish as an example, and the girl giggled. All the people in the group gathered around him were laughing, smiling. Kyoya found himself smiling too, at the way his friend could add so much brightness to even this serious place. He almost hated to break the spell. He slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him, allowing Tamaki a few more minutes to entertain.

Finally, Tamaki must have felt his gaze, he glanced up and their eyes met. “Kyoya! There you are! Sorry, I must have gotten distracted. Everyone, this is my good friend Kyoya Ootori! This new hospital is all thanks to him and his family.”

There was a flutter and several of the parents stepped forward to offer their thanks, which Kyoya accepted politely. Though there was no need to cause such a stir. He should have been annoyed, but instead he found that his heart was warmed by all their gratitude, for a moment his hard work seemed worth more than a momentary satisfaction at the bottom line.

“Shall we go?” Tamaki asked Kyoya, met by a chorus of cries and pleas from the children. Tamaki laughed and bent down to a crouch, facing his throng of small friends. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, okay? I have much more to teach you!”

They made their excuses and goodbyes and left the families chattering, some of the children returning to review what they had learned on the piano.

The hotpot place was just down the street, so they walked there despite the cold. The sidewalks were crowded with people just getting off of work, the street packed with cars and cabs rushing to their destinations. They entered the warm restaurant, a bell chiming over the door. 

“Apologies again for being late,” Kyoya said, as they sat down. “But you seemed to be having a good time.”

“I was,” Tamaki laughed. “I love teaching children. That was actually my job, in France, for almost a year. Before I saved up enough to come back to Japan. I was teaching music to kids.”

Kyoya paused, halfway through the act of opening the wrapper around his chopsticks. After all this time, to bring it up so suddenly now...

“So that’s where you’ve been,” he said. 

Tamaki leaned forward. “I think you already know where I’ve been,” he said conspiratorially.

“Of course not,” Kyoya scoffed. “How would I know such a thing?” He had suspected, of course. He had predicted with 99% accuracy. But in a rare act of self restraint, he hadn’t sent his army of investigators to find out for sure.

Tamaki sighed, leaning back, the dim light of the restaurant catching in his hair and painting his face with golden shadows.

“I was with my mother.”

Kyoya looked at Tamaki across the table, saying nothing.

Tamaki hesitated, but then continued. “Her treatment became much more affordable. She was chosen to be in a rare, exclusive trial. After the doctors said that everyone had given up on searching for a cure. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you Kyoya?”

Tamaki’s eyes on him were sharp. Kyoya still said nothing.

“I think you found her,” said Tamaki, finally. “Didn’t you?”

Kyoya looked back at him, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Tamaki sighed.

“They’re offering the same treatment at your new hospital. I was there today to check. Everything matches up. Anyway, don’t try to deny it. I thought it was you. But now I know.”

Kyoya studied his friend for a moment. “I made a few good investments,” Kyoya acknowledged. “That’s all.”

Tamaki leaned forward, bowing his head until it almost touched the table in front of him. “Thank you,” he said.

“Oh, get up,” Kyoya snapped. “There’s no need for that.”

Part of him would always feel a hint of guilt. A nagging feeling. _You should have done it years ago,_ he thought. Why didn’t he search for Tamaki’s mother earlier? He was always going to find her, he was always going to help Tamaki in this way.

He thought about it, in high school. Even on the high school trip to France. He had all the Ootori Group resources, but he had never searched for her, back then. Perhaps he thought, back then, that it was too great a step, too interfering. That it would reveal too much of himself. When Kyoya was young he would have moved the stars, razed the earth, brought back the dead for his friend’s sake, but Tamaki could never know.

Instead, Kyoya had waited until college, when he had enough money and resources of his own to fund his father’s abandoned research through a series of shell companies, to find Tamaki’s mother and get her into a clinical trial in a way that could never be traced back to himself. Or so he thought. But here Tamaki was, thanking him, grateful to him, which was exactly what he didn’t want.

“I’m glad that you had that time with your mother,” said Kyoya. “But I still don’t understand why you are living this way. If you went back to your family now, they would certainly accept you. Even if you defied them briefly, you are their only heir.”

“Why should I go back there?” Tamaki scoffed. His voice had a bitter note, making him sound so unlike the boy he used to be, the boy who was all cream and sugar and sunshine. It was something that had happened in recent years, while Tamaki was abroad, studying at a university he didn’t choose, alone and friendless and always watched by his family’s many eyes. “I’m not ready yet. There are still some things I need to do.” Tamaki softened then, seemed to return to himself. “I know everyone meant well...they all wanted the right thing for me…”

His eyes settled on Kyoya, seemed to look right through him. “I’m truly grateful to you,” he said. “But I won’t embarrass you by discussing it further right now.” He opened his menu with a flourish. “Let’s order! I’m telling you, this is the best hotpot in the city!”

So Kyoya opened his own menu, collected himself briefly behind it, and allowed himself to believe that his friend was distracted, and would soon forget.

~~~

They were on the couch later that evening, Tamaki playing a video game while Kyoya worked on his laptop (and occasionally looked up to shout things like “reload, reload!” or “laser field on the left”). Kyoya’s phone buzzed with a series of texts.

“The twins will be in town from Milan next week,” he informed Tamaki, who paused the game to listen. “We could have dinner with them, and with Haruhi, while they’re here. Unless it will be awkward for you to see Haruhi now.”

“That’s great! Tell them I’m here and that I’d love to see them. And there’s nothing awkward, Haruhi and I will always be good friends,” Tamaki said. He laughed softly. “It’s a shame, I always thought a romantic like me and someone with a more practical nature would make an ideal match.”

“Yes it is a shame,” Kyoya agreed, as he typed out his text in response. “The effort expended and the amount of trouble you caused all of us in your pursuit of her. Certainly a poor return on investment.”

Tamaki rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah...sorry about that. There wasn’t much substance between us when we tried to date. We're much better as friends. The romance was just an intense, crazy high school crush. Where the other person feels like the most important person in the world, everything has so much meaning. You would do anything for that other person. At the time, it just feels so important. You know what I mean.”

“I see,” said Kyoya, although there was no way for him to see. He had never experienced such a thing in high school, as Tamaki well knew.

~~~

Kyoya tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep that night. He wondered if his friend was still awake on the other side of the door. He thought about what Tamaki knew now.

Kyoya did a good deed. He poured resources into finding a cure for a rare disease and his gamble paid off. _It’s nothing to hide_ , he thought. But why did it feel so wrong for anyone to know? Like something had been ripped away, exposing him. _Why did you do it?_ he asked himself harshly. His father's words came back to him. _The reason why also matters, on occasion._


	6. Chapter 6

The Hitachiin twins descended on Tokyo with the force of a hurricane, capturing every headline like any other natural disaster. From the moment they stepped off of their private jet, the eyes of the nation were on them. They were photographed on every red carpet, schmoozing with stars on the fashion runways, in private booths at the hottest nightclubs.

Kyoya admired the way they had grown their business and personal brand. They were the ultimate trendsetters. Still, it made getting together with them somewhat annoying. Kyoya preferred not to be photographed covered in glitter, spraying champagne over adoring crowds at music festivals, which seemed to be a regular Tuesday for his old friends.

In the interest of avoiding the paparazzi, Kyoya booked out an entire restaurant on the top floor of a hotel in Ginza for their meeting.

“This is kind of overboard,” said Haruhi, gesturing at the empty restaurant, the army of servers waiting to attend their small table. But she was fairly used to such things by now, and shrugged it off, starting in on the fancy bread basket.

“Has your trip been profitable so far?” Kyoya asked the twins.

“Pretty good,” they chorused.

“We brought some gifts from Italy,” said Kaoru, gesturing to the pile of boxes on the table.

When opened, the boxes contained a frilly dress for Haruhi from the latest Hitachiin spring line. A beautiful cashmere scarf for Kyoya. And a--

“What’s this?” asked Tamaki, opening a big box to reveal a tiny, electronic device.

“We’re going to have you microchipped like a dog,” said Hikaru.

“As soon as we find a doctor who will do it,” said Kaoru.

“That way you won’t run off again,” they said, and started snickering.

The dinner went well, otherwise. The twins had endless funny stories from their lives abroad, and Haruhi was working on some interesting projects as she studied for her law degree. If they hadn’t ended the dinner with a celebratory reunion drink, the night might have concluded in a civil and dignified manner. The twins, however, had a hundred year old bottle of Chartreuse from France that they had been waiting for a special occasion to crack open. And this was that occasion.

After Kyoya paid the bill at the restaurant, the five of them piled into a cab, and the twins gave an address in Shinjuku. The cab dropped them off in front of a massive karaoke palace. The twins booked a room, and before Kyoya knew what was happening, he was sitting in a sticky booth with neon lights and lasers blaring into his eyes as everyone shouted the words on the screens in front of them. The twins kept ordering bottle after bottle of soju and somehow the bottles kept disappearing.

They all had near-perfect English from school, but Tamaki’s was the best, so the twins shoved the microphone into his hands and selected “I Want It That Way.” Tamaki was in his element, and he took his rendition of the Backstreet Boys’ greatest hit incredibly seriously. It didn’t help that he was a great singer with a musician’s timing, hitting every note so that the karaoke machine kept pinging “perfect!” “amazing!” On top of that, he sang the song with intense, heartfelt emotion, complete with elaborate dance moves and Hikaru crooning the background “Yeahhh”s. Haruhi was on the floor laughing so hard Kyoya was honestly afraid for her.

“Tell me whyyyyy!” Tamaki shouted into the microphone, raising his fist to the sky, and even Kyoya couldn’t contain himself and laughed softly. Tamaki, noticing, always aware of his audience, went down on his knees and serenaded him, “you are my fire, the one desire,” before shimmying toward Kaoru.

A few more songs passed, everyone had more soju, and the twins became bolder and bolder.

“Now Kyoya sings!” they cried in unison, punching a song in.

“I don’t think so,” said Kyoya.

“You have to, we’re going to make you sing just like our Lord here…”

“Thank you, but I must insist that you stop asking me,” said Kyoya, and gave them his most angelic smile. They both flinched. Hikaru cowered a bit behind his tambourine. It was gratifying to see that he could still strike fear into their hearts.

A few more songs passed and the twins got bored. They paid for the room and the group took to the street, packed with young people out to enjoy their Friday night. As they left the karaoke palace, they were faced with rows of buildings, lit up with neon ads for the different local party spots. Many of the ads were for the host and hostess clubs in the area.

“Look at this,” said Hikaru. “Giant host club billboards everywhere. Who do these guys think they are?”

“Where was our billboard?” Kaoru demanded of Kyoya.

“Exclusive, high end clubs don’t need to waste money on such things,” Kyoya said primly.

“You stingy bastard,” said Hikaru.

“You know what would be really funny…,” said Haruhi, five drinks in.

That’s how they ended up at one of the most exclusive, high end host clubs in Shinjuku.

“Where are our drinks? Someone could at least offer us tea,” said Hikaru.

“Total amateurs,” said Kaoru.

The other tables around them were populated by ladies being charmed by the gorgeous, well-groomed hosts that flitted from table to table. Haruhi had chosen the perfect outing for them. It was really the one place in Tokyo they could go as a group and not be stared at constantly as the most beautiful people in the room.

One host came forward to take their drink order and they all ended up with obscenely sweet cocktails.

“I think mine is pure honey,” said Tamaki. He tried to pour some of the drink into his mouth, but it moved through the glass slowly like a sludge. “Try this, Kyoya.”

“No,” said Kyoya, discreetly pouring his own honeydew flavored concoction into the ice bucket.

One of the hosts approached Haruhi, leaning against their booth and winking at her. “Hey, beautiful lady,” he said. “Do you want to share a drink with me?”

“Nope,” said Tamaki.

“Keep walking,” said Hikaru.

“ _Amateurs_ ,” said Kaoru.

Haruhi wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “That used to be you, you idiots,” she said.

They were talking among themselves, when they overheard a raised voice from the young lady one table over.

“Please, I already gave you all the money I had last time. I can’t afford any more this week,” she was saying to a handsome host.

“But you promised to buy me a new laptop. You promised!” he pouted.

The young lady started to cry. As soon as Kyoya heard the nearby sobs, he sighed internally, knowing there was no way Tamaki could keep from getting himself involved. True to form, Tamaki stood up.

“Hey! Lay off,” he said, shoving Hikaru out of the way to climb out of the booth. “She said she can’t afford it.”

“It’s not your business,” said the host.

“I suppose I could go to the ATM…,” said the young lady. “But I won’t have anything for food this week…” 

“Stay out of it,” said the host, as Tamaki got closer. “What are a bunch of guys doing hanging around here anyway?”

Tamaki made a furious sound in his throat. “Kyoya can’t you do something?” he asked.

Kyoya punched a few texts into his phone. A minute later, he addressed the host, allowing his voice to carry over the din of the neighboring tables.

“Mr. Saito...I see that you are a bright young man. Even a host can’t live on looks alone forever. How fortunate that you’ve put your funds toward three years of dentistry school. I’m a Senior VP at the Ootori Group. The largest medical employer in Japan. It would be a shame if all your years of school were wasted. Difficult to get a position when you graduate, if you are blacklisted by my family’s company. Perhaps you could leave the young lady alone.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Tamaki, as the host backed off. “And I am happy to entertain you. Beautiful princess, don’t waste your money on this fool! I’d adore the chance to vie for your love this evening.”

“Um, do you work here?” she asked, looking skeptical.

Tamaki’s face fell.

The twins started to shriek with laughter. “That dumb lord!”

“He thinks he’s still such a ladies man!”

“He’s just an old curmudgeon. How can he still charm a young girl like that?”

“Hey! Who are you calling a curmudgeon you little brats!”

Kyoya smiled. To be honest, it was the most he had enjoyed himself all night. It had been some time since he last threatened anyone on Tamaki’s behalf.

After that they abandoned the host club to find a nightcap at one of the many bars on Golden Gai. Haruhi, with her typical commoner’s wisdom, bowed out saying that she had to take a test the next day.

The rest of them found a tiny bar where they squeezed together elbow to elbow to share a beer that turned into three beers. There was so much to catch up on, Tamaki and the twins one upping each other over and over with their wild stories from their college years abroad.

They all stumbled out into the street when the bar closed. The subway was shut down and the streets were quiet and empty of cabs. Wandering for a few blocks, they stumbled onto a street packed from end to end with the neon lights of love hotels. Young couples were checking in on the discreet machines out front.

“Let’s crash in one of these,” the twins said, and they all laughed hysterically at the idea, but then they all approached the kiosk for the closest one.

Somehow, they each purchased a room for the night and entered the flowery, pink lobby. Tamaki and the twins were fascinated by the vending machine in the lobby’s corner. The twins bought a huge, novelty bottle of lube for 13,00 yen. Tamaki bought a box of cherry flavored condoms.

“Our gift to you,” the twins laughed, shoving their bottle at Tamaki and dashing off, chasing each other down the hall to their rooms.

Tamaki and Kyoya went down the other hallway. When they came to their rooms, Kyoya easily opened the door of his but Tamaki couldn’t get his key card to work.

“We can share,” Kyoya finally sighed, allowing Tamaki to follow him into the ridiculous, pink, frilly suite. There was a couch and a minibar in the first room, a bedroom and bath in the back.

Tamaki sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands like it might still be spinning. Kyoya pulled two glass Evian bottles out of the mini fridge and handed one to his friend. “You'd better have some water,” he said.

“ _You_ better have some water, Mom,” Tamaki snorted, but opened his bottle and chugged from it gamely. “That was so much fun! What a night.”

“It was certainly something,” agreed Kyoya. Then, in a rare personal aside, he added, “I’m glad that things aren’t awkward with Haruhi. It’s good that we can all still be friends like this.”

He sat down beside Tamaki on the sofa, opening his own water bottle.

“I told you,” Tamaki sighed. “It was just a silly childhood crush.”

“I know. So obvious,” said Kyoya. “Ugh. That coping mechanism. Calling her your daughter just to make it seem safe.”

“And what about your nickname?” asked Tamaki.

That made Kyoya's mouth snap shut. Mommy. Daddy. Their old joke.

“Was that safe?” Tamaki persisted. He laughed, that bitterness again, not the usual tinkling music. “Maybe there were more dangerous things I could have done, than have a crush on Haruhi.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Kyoya murmured. Kyoya was pretty drunk. He never allowed himself to become drunk. Hazy, yes. Tipsy, sure. He partied just hard enough to build camaraderie, to get the deal signed, but he was always in perfect control of himself. And so, by that logic, he must have wanted to be drunk tonight. Uninhibited for once. It felt good, to sing, to laugh, to be with friends like a typical twentysomething. He must have wanted this.

Tamaki started to peel the label off of his water bottle. “You know, it was totally innocent with Haruhi. The most we ever did was hold hands. It wasn’t like,” he gestured around himself at the seedy love hotel on the block of seedy love hotels. “Like this.”

“Mm,” said Kyoya. He lifted his water bottle and took a long sip. His throat was dry from so much shouting.

“But since then, I’ve done a bit of everything,” said Tamaki. “I wasn’t exactly happy in college. I was looking for distraction in a lot of the wrong places.”

Of course he had, Kyoya thought, the fact seemed so obvious that it didn’t need to be stated. So beautiful, so charming, of course Tamaki had been with countless people in his years abroad.

“And you?” Tamaki asked.

Kyoya paused. He twirled his drink in his hands. “I haven’t—” he felt the spots of color high on his cheeks. A 23 year old virgin. He could bluff his way through it. But why bother. “I had opportunities,” he tried to explain. “But I could never do things...the way I wanted to.”

“How did you want to do things?” asked Tamaki, eyes intense.

“That’s personal,” said Kyoya.

“With a man?” asked Tamaki, and the bottle slipped from Kyoya’s hand, crashing to the floor, water draining into the carpet.

Tamaki stared at him. _Oh. No. Oh. No._ Kyoya’s brain shrieked at him. Of course, he knew himself. He knew what he imagined when he touched himself, his preferences when it came to pornography. He wasn’t a complete idiot--this blunder aside. He just never thought he would speak his desires aloud to another person.

“I’ve done it,” said Tamaki.

“Have you?”

“I’ve tried pretty much all of it, I told you.”

Kyoya was suddenly hyper aware of everything in the room. The neon light seeping through the window, the hum of the air conditioner, how hot the jacket of his suit felt against his neck. His breath was coming shallowly.

“We could try it,” said Tamaki. He gave Kyoya a wolfish grin that made something warm and heavy pool in the pit of his stomach. “Seriously, look around you. If not now, when?”

Tamaki slid across the couch, got close to him, so close, too close. He breathed next to Kyoya’s cheek. It smelled like beer and the sweet honey from Tamaki’s host club cocktail.

Kyoya was very still, frozen in place. Tamaki reached up to carefully remove Kyoya’s glasses and set them on a side table. Then he leaned forward and kissed Kyoya on the mouth.

Kyoya’s brain went nuclear. There was nothing inside of him but white noise. He didn’t know where he was, what he was doing. And when he became aware of his own body again, it was kissing Tamaki back, eagerly, frantically. _This is why. This is why, this is why you do all these things that you can’t explain, isn’t it._ Kyoya fisted his fingers in Tamaki’s hair, pushed his tongue into his mouth.

They pulled apart, both breathing hard.

“Is this what you want?” Tamaki asked.

And Kyoya’s brain was screaming at him now, two different things. _No, stop, this is a bad idea,_ said a small voice. But much louder, much stronger, he thought, _Is it finally time to stop lying to yourself?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: remember that E rating for later chapters?? We’ve arrived at...later chapters.

Kyoya didn’t trust himself to speak. If he said a single word, he thought he might shatter into a thousand pieces. His brain was short circuiting. He couldn’t think. He wasn’t ten steps ahead, as he usually was. Instead he felt about a thousand steps behind.

 _Is this what you want?_ Tamaki asked.

“I..,” he said, and stopped, licked his lips, which were still damp. “I…”

His distance vision wasn’t good without his glasses, so he could only focus on what was right in front of him. Tamaki took up his whole field of view, with his luminous hair, the unreal violet-blue color of his eyes, the dusting of faint freckles on his nose. His expression was unusually serious, watchful.

“Can I kiss you some more?” asked Tamaki.

Kyoya nodded gratefully. Yes. Yes, that might help him figure everything out. That might give him a second to think. But Tamaki leaned in again, and this time when their lips met, Kyoya’s mind went completely silent, and he felt everything. The heat of Tamaki’s body against his, Tamaki’s hand where it came to rest against his jaw, Tamaki’s knee where it bumped against his own.

Tamaki knew how to kiss. Another way in which he was just so _French_. He made the simple act seem like an art form, nuzzling with his nose just so, a hint of teeth against Kyoya’s bottom lip, his tongue tracing a delicate line where Kyoya’s mouth parted. Each kiss left Kyoya more dizzy, more breathless.

There was no way Kyoya could think now. His brain was shutting down. All the blood was pooling in other parts of his anatomy. Tamaki shifted to the side and his lips found Kyoya’s neck, traced their way up to catch Kyoya’s earlobe, and Kyoya made a soft, wanting noise in the back of his throat.

Carefully, Tamaki moved his hand from Kyoya’s jaw, and brought it down to rest on Kyoya’s knee.

“Can I touch you like this?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Kyoya, and Tamaki leaned forward to kiss his neck again, sliding his hand higher up Kyoya’s leg, “ _please._ ”

Tamaki brought his hand higher, circling Kyoya’s obvious erection through his pants, teasing with light touches. Kyoya, frustrated, finally just undid his belt, unzipped, and pulled down his boxers. He hissed when Tamaki’s hand found his bare cock.

“I’m not sure what to--”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Kyoya’s face was hot, his chest was heaving. He closed his eyes, afraid to see what was happening, but in a way that was worse, because then all he could focus on was the sensation. Tamaki moved closer to him to find a more comfortable angle for his hand, and started to jerk him off in earnest, all the while leaving trails of kisses on all of Kyoya’s exposed skin--his throat, his jawline, his mouth.

Kyoya was never going to last long. He was so overwhelmed, so drunk in every sense of the word, he had absolutely no control over himself. Tamaki’s rhythm was quick and rough, and in just a few minutes Kyoya found himself teetering on the edge.

“Can I--put my mouth on you?” Tamaki asked, and Kyoya groaned and nodded because he couldn’t form words.

“I want you to come for me,” said Tamaki. He leaned over, engulfed Kyoya in his slick, warm mouth, and sucked hard. The shock of it was overwhelming. Tamaki’s golden head bent over his lap was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. Kyoya came obediently into Tamaki’s mouth, gasping, gripping the armrest of the sofa.

Tamaki sat back up, spitting neatly into Kyoya's empty water bottle. He took a swig from his own water to clear his mouth.

“Didn’t want you to get your suit dirty,” he grinned. “I’ve ruined enough of them. Come on, let’s get you out of all this and into bed.”

Kyoya stared at him blankly. All of his pleasure sensors were still firing wildly. His brain was just playing static at that point.

“But you haven’t even--”

“The first one is always fast,” said Tamaki. “Now we can take it slow. If you want.”

 _The first one?_ Kyoya thought. _There’s more?_

“Come on,” said Tamaki, who was drunker than him, but somehow the one taking charge of all this. “Let’s get into bed and relax.”

Kyoya hesitantly kicked his pants all the way off and shrugged out of his jacket, starting to work on his tie. It felt surreal to be removing the trappings of the office, watching as Tamaki unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled off his jeans.

Tamaki grabbed the lube and condoms off of the coffee table as he went into the bedroom. _Oh god what is happening._

They could still walk away from this. Just a high spirited drunken hand job between friends. Every minute this continued the costs were increasing, but Kyoya’s mind was too foggy to do all the calculations.

 _Is this what you want?_ How was he expected to respond to that, when he’d spent so many years deeply, deeply denying the answer to that question. Even in dreams, even in fantasies, it was never this. It was always a gorgeous blond stranger with striking eyes, a heart shaped face, an impish smile, but Kyoya would never allow himself to want this.

He had to put a stop to it, he thought, as he followed Tamaki into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, it was dark. The only light came through the window, a warm neon glow from the hotel sign. Tamaki had swept the frilly, pink coverlet onto the floor and was lying on top of the sheets completely naked. Kyoya’s mouth went dry.

Kyoya had seen Tamaki’s body, many times. He’d seen it in the act of changing, in a swimsuit, artistically displayed in every ridiculous cosplay of the week. But he’d never been allowed to touch. And in this moment, he wanted to touch, needed to, more than anything.

 _Maybe just for a minute_ , he thought. He should lie down anyway, the room was spinning and he didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or the heart palpitations he was having. He settled into the mattress, next to Tamaki, not touching, just looking, working up the courage. Tamaki let him look.

Tentatively, Kyoya reached out a hand and laid it on Tamaki’s bare chest. Outwardly, his friend was calm, but his heartbeat was wild under Kyoya’s palm. Encouraged, Kyoya continued to explore, running his hand down the smooth plane of Tamaki’s stomach, the curve of his hip.

“We don’t have to do anything else,” said Tamaki, a warning, as Kyoya’s hand approached his half-hard dick.

 _Is this what you want?_ Yes. It was what Kyoya had wanted for years. Better just to admit it, here, now, in the dark. It was already too late to walk away. It had been too late from the moment Tamaki followed him into this room, he realized.

“I want to,” said Kyoya. He bridged the distance between them, and kissed Tamaki again. Tamaki moved on top of him, their bodies pressed against each other, and they spent long minutes like that, touching, kissing, Kyoya could feel Tamaki getting harder against his thigh. Kyoya’s body was responding as well.

They broke apart, and Tamaki moved to lie down beside him again. “Tell me what you imagined for your first time. We can do it however you want,” he said. He gave Kyoya a naughty, _ridiculously sexy_ smile that Kyoya had never seen in his many years of documenting Tamaki’s smiles. The Ouran girls would have trampled each other in a stampede to buy photobooks of it.

Kyoya didn’t know if he would be able to say. He’d never been good at talking about things like this. He breathed deeply. It helped to think of this as just another negotiation. He pictured Tamaki sitting across from him in a boardroom, asking for his list of demands. He managed to say, in the hard, crystal clear tones he used to initiate a hostile takeover, “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Okay,” Tamaki whispered. “Okay, let’s do it like that.”

The bedsprings creaked as he shifted, coming back with the bottle of lube. He put a pillow under Kyoya’s back and Kyoya moved his legs apart. More slow, languid kisses, distracting, as Tamaki put lube on his hand and started to slowly work Kyoya open.

Kyoya’s body was loose and relaxed from all the drinks and his earlier orgasm. It didn’t take long for Tamaki to open him up with his long, nimble fingers. Tamaki was searching for something inside him and when he found it Kyoya made a keening sound that surprised even himself.

“You can do it now,” Kyoya moaned.

Tamaki smirked. “So used to being the boss. Not so fast.”

He was stroking gently with his fingers, slowly and deliberately taking Kyoya apart until he was aching, desperate.

“Please, I need you to,” Kyoya mumbled, which was a lot, coming from him.

Tamaki pulled back, rolled a condom on. Kyoya groaned with wanting.

The first few thrusts were strange, startling. Kyoya took more deep breaths, getting used to the sensation. Tamaki whispered soft encouragements and pressed gentle lips against his exposed throat.

After a while, it started to feel good, and then really good. Kyoya brought his free hand down to touch himself in time to Tamaki’s deep, gentle strokes inside him.

 _Is this what you want?_ Yes. Of course it was. He’d wanted it for such a long time. Tried so hard not to but it always came back. A million images rushed into his mind, Tamaki’s shoulders in his school blazer, Tamaki’s long legs browned by the Okinawa sun, Tamaki’s soft lips bitten in thought. He’d always wanted this. And Tamaki, in his typical kind, thoughtless way, was giving it to him. And it was everything he imagined, it was more, more, more.

Tamaki went still above him.

Through the haze he was in, Kyoya gave him a questioning look. “What is it?”

“Kyoya...you’re crying. Are you hurt? Did I—”

Kyoya was shocked, he reached up with his hand and felt something wet on his face.

Tamaki started to withdraw but Kyoya grabbed his upper arms, held him there.

“No. It’s not that.” He hesitated, thinking how to explain. He thought of the first time he heard Tamaki play the piano. The way the music, that outpouring of Tamaki’s open heart, had knocked down every wall inside him. Left him stripped raw, emotional. This was the same. “This just feels so right.”

“Oh,” Tamaki whispered. “I know. I know. For me too.”

“Don’t stop. It’s so good,” said Kyoya. He moved his hands, letting them roam over Tamaki’s body, memorizing, running through Tamaki’s hair, over his neck, down the smooth, hard planes of his back. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and from Tamaki’s short, erratic thrusts he thought Tamaki must be close too.

He felt the moment it happened. Tamaki went rigid above him, spilling himself, making a soft noise deep in his throat. Kyoya was touching himself, almost there. Tamaki pulled back, pushed Kyoya’s hands away, bent over him and took Kyoya in his mouth again.

“Ah, god,” Kyoya cried, and came hard down Tamaki’s throat. This time, Tamaki swallowed it.

They both stayed where they were for a few moments, breathing, letting everything catch up with them. Then Tamaki went into the bathroom and returned with tissues, cleaning them both up while Kyoya laid there, boneless and on the verge of passing out.

Tamaki threw the tissues into the waste bin and came to rest on the bed beside Kyoya, not touching, their bodies cooling. After a while, Tamaki said, in a quiet voice, “I’m a cuddler. You probably guessed. Is it okay?”

Kyoya laughed, a little hysterically. It was exactly the kind of thing Tamaki would say after sex.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?”

Tamaki made a pleased noise and shifted closer, throwing an arm over Kyoya’s chest.

“Don’t cry anymore,” he said, peppering the side of Kyoya’s face with kisses. “Kyoya, I’d do anything to see you smile.”

And that made Kyoya smile. Tamaki was so warm against him. He felt himself starting to fall asleep.

Tamaki murmured some soft endearment against Kyoya’s shoulder. It took Kyoya’s tired brain a second to process the French phrase. He didn’t say my love, my sweet, my darling. He said mon ami. My friend. The thing he only ever said to Kyoya. And the very last thing that was firmly closed in Kyoya’s heart cracked open.

 _This has to be a dream_ , Kyoya thought. _So it’s ok. This has to be just another fantasy_. But it felt so real, and he pulled Tamaki close against him, and thought, _If it’s a dream, then let me dream it all night._


	8. Chapter 8

Awareness came back to Kyoya in slow waves. He was coming out of the total blackout sleep that came after a lot of alcohol. There was a painful pounding in his head that kept making him shift positions. He realized that he was cold, sleeping under just a sheet. He was naked. Unusual. His mouth tasted like something had died in it. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was a box of cherry flavored condoms on a nightstand.

The facts of the night before slammed into him like a freight train. He’d had sex. With his friend, Tamaki. In this place, which, from what he could blurrily make out, was the kind of terrible, embarrassing love hotel no one he knew would ever bring a date to. They’d had sex. With a stupid, idiotic, _cherry flavored_ condom. This couldn’t be happening.

“Morning,” Tamaki said, from somewhere behind him. Kyoya closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to…” Kyoya mumbled and rolled out of bed and rushed forward into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. 

He turned on the water to cover the sound, bent over the toilet, and was horribly, violently sick. It was all coming back, the beer, the soju, the Chartreuse, all of it. 

Then, for about a minute, he just sat on the floor staring at the wall in front of the toilet, quietly panicking as he tried to remember everything that had happened. Oh god. _Oh god._

He got up shakily to wash his hands in the sink and as he did so he caught a look at himself in the mirror. His face was pale and small, his hair sticking up in all directions, his lips looked bruised and bitten. He felt like his insides had been shaken out and rearranged.

Kyoya turned on the shower. He smelled like he had alcohol seeping out of every pore. He had to calm down. He just needed to think. What was the appropriate strategy here? Obviously priority number one was preserving his close friendship with Tamaki, the only person who had ever truly known and understood him. Could they still be close friends, with everything Tamaki had seen, with everything he might know now? Kyoya stood under the spray for a long time, wondering _how long do you have to shower to make the previous night not have happened?_

Tamaki was so kind, and so good, and had such an open heart, but he could also be unbelievably stupid at times. It was Kyoya’s job _not to be stupid_ , for both of them.

Kyoya wasn’t easy with touch, like Tamaki. He wasn’t easy with his feelings, like him, either. To Tamaki it must have been nothing, another Friday night. To Kyoya it was...more.

Tamaki could do things without thinking about what they might mean. And Kyoya felt like he was looking down a bottomless well, when he thought of what last night had meant to him. It scared him. He couldn’t remember the last time something had scared him.

When his skin started turning red from the heat of the water, Kyoya finally turned off the shower. He wrapped himself in the only thing there--a fluffy pink towel with hearts on it.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Kyoya, are you okay?”

Kyoya opened the door a crack. “I’m fine,” he said.

“I have your clothes here,” said Tamaki.

“Thanks.” Kyoya opened the door a bit more to accept a pile of neatly folded clothes, and then firmly closed it again.

He managed to get himself dressed, run fingers through his hair, rinse his mouth. He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He would have to face whatever was out there.

“Hi,” said Tamaki, sitting on the bed, fully dressed and looking slightly tired, but otherwise none the worse for the wear. There was something cautious about the way he was sitting. He held out Kyoya’s glasses and Kyoya came closer to take them.

Tamaki had a look on his face, the one he got when he was about to say something he thought Kyoya wouldn’t like. About to ask for next day elephant rental for a parade, for the host club budget to buy skydiving equipment, for Kyoya to charter a yacht to the Bermuda Triangle.

He started to say something, but Kyoya couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand to be let down easy, to be told it was just a one time thing. He also felt his usual instinct, to just take care of this for Tamaki, to just clean up this mess.

“It’s fine,” he said. It was better to be the one to say it first. A strategic advantage. “You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

Tamaki closed his mouth.

“I’m late...I have to get to a...thing. You have the keys to my place right? I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Tamaki said quietly.

Kyoya fled from the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, his heart hammering. He hoped those twins were gone because if he saw them right now and they made one of their stupid jokes, the ground might open up and swallow him whole. He would just disintegrate into nothingness. Or, he would kill them.

Luckily he saw no one as he made his way down the hall and got into a cab. According to his calendar, he was supposed to meet his sister at a garden party.

He arrived at his destination--a mansion in the suburbs with landscaped grounds, pavilions in the yard, the tinkling of fountains in the background. Men and women in suits and dresses sipped iced tea on the lawn and the children played croquet and it was all just so normal, under the bright March sunlight. But Kyoya felt unreal, like a ghost wandering through it.

“You don’t look well,” said Fuyumi, concerned.

 _What are the clues?_ Kyoya thought bitterly. His dark undereyes, the faint smell of alcohol he couldn’t entirely scrub away, his rumpled clothes from the day before. The way he was still reeling from what he had just done and what it might have ruined.

He felt like he was going insane. He felt like the world was ending in a horrible, horrible way and he was with his sister at this stupid garden party. She introduced him to elegant lady after elegant lady. He smiled and recited the facts about each of them he had memorized for this event, ingratiating himself for future favors to the family.

He ate nothing and found himself staring into space when he should have been paying attention.

“Kyoya, when are you going to start taking care of yourself?” Fuyumi chided, as they parted in the entryway. “You have to stop working so hard. It’s not good for you.”

When Kyoya got home from the party, Tamaki was sitting on the couch working in his notebook. He looked up with something like hopefulness on his face. But Kyoya just couldn’t. He didn’t have the energy to sit there beside Tamaki as usual and pretend. Maybe after some time.

He claimed that he was tired and hungover, and went into his room where he fell into bed. He didn’t feel well at all, so it made sense. He slept for a while.

In the middle of the night he woke up and it all caught up with him in a relentless barrage of images. How beautiful Tamaki looked in the neon and moonlight. How softly Tamaki placed a hand on his knee. Tamaki’s lips on his skin, Tamaki’s eyes closing, the sounds he made, the way his hands felt.

He’d wanted it. He’d wanted it, and Tamaki obviously wanted it, at the time. Why was this so hard to accept? It happened, once. Why was he completely falling apart?

He tossed and turned, refusing to touch himself even though every other thought sparked so much desire. He went into the bathroom and took two of the sleeping pills he kept for emergencies--it didn’t matter if he was tired the next day--he just had to get through this night.

The next morning, when he woke up, it wasn’t to his alarm. He heard Tamaki playing the piano for the first time. 

~~~

For an entire week, Tamaki played the piano every day. In the morning, Kyoya woke up to gentle, soothing tones of Debussy or Bach. In the evenings, Tamaki favored the romantics, Tchaikovsky or Chopin. He practiced for hours. The music was always stunningly beautiful, the way Tamaki played it, with so much heart and feeling. That’s what Tamaki had always done, Kyoya reflected, when someone near him was sick or feeling sad. He played the piano.

Otherwise, they avoided each other in the apartment. Tamaki went out, a bit more. Coming home after dinner when Kyoya was already in his room or his study. Maybe he was trying to give Kyoya space, maybe he also just didn’t want to be around him.

Kyoya found that he was lonely--he hated eating dinner alone at the long table, he hated looking at his reports in his study by himself, instead of on the warm couch with Tamaki making noise in the background.

Kyoya hadn’t realized it was happening, but Tamaki had taken over his house like an invasive species. In the last month and a half they really had become close, closer every day, like Kyoya had been slowly caught in the orbit of the sun, been pulled toward the bright, hot thing that could destroy him.

There was barely any refuge from reminders and memories of Tamaki, there were objects in every room of the house, thoughts of him around every corner. Kyoya’s bedroom was the only place left where Tamaki hadn’t burrowed in, but as Kyoya was trying to fall asleep each night, memories of what happened in the hotel overtook him. 

Kyoya could barely function at work. He was hardly sleeping at all. Sometimes he would have flashes of heat, remembering what had happened, he’d forget what he was saying in the middle of a presentation, stop responding despite someone repeatedly saying his name on a conference call.

Every second that he knew what it felt like--to have Tamaki, to be with him, to be held by him--and also knew that he would never feel it again, was pure, unfiltered, level 100 agony. But even so, he had to keep reminding himself, it wasn’t the same for Tamaki. Tamaki had been with plenty of people, he wasn’t some pining virgin who couldn’t handle a night of casual sex. 

And even if it did mean something to Tamaki, by some tiny margin, it was all useless because what was the long game? They could never actually be together. There was a reason Kyoya had never allowed himself to even think about it. The world they were both born into would tear them apart. Tamaki made it easy to forget, especially lately, but he was also born an aristocrat with an empire to inherit.

Half of him wished that Tamaki would just get the hint and leave. Didn’t he see that Kyoya was in so much pain every day, that it was so goddamn difficult, that he had to hide in another room just to keep his hands off him. The other half hoped that Tamaki would never leave, just sit around in his apartment torturing him for the rest of his life, because the alternative, not having him there, was much worse. 

Tamaki first mentioned, near the end of the week, that maybe he should start looking for a flight back to France, and even though Kyoya felt like he’d been punched in the chest, he said, "That makes sense, if you like."

~~~

“Kyoya,” Tamaki said, on Sunday in the late afternoon, after a week of misery that had left Kyoya feeling like a wrecked, broken shadow of his former self. “I want to show you something.”

Kyoya was standing in the kitchen, lost in thought as he pondered the contents of the refrigerator. He would usually go out for dinner but he didn’t feel up to it. All the staff were gone, and he didn’t know which of the premade meals to heat up and stare at without eating.

“All right,” Kyoya said, and allowed Tamaki to lead him into the solarium.

On the way there, Tamaki produced his notebook with a flourish. “Haven’t you wondered what I’m always writing in here?”

“Yes, I suppose,” said Kyoya. He had wondered, but he didn’t want to be rude, or peer over his friend’s shoulder. Tamaki had always been a bit cagey about it, like it was another one of the many secrets he’d returned to Japan with.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you before. But while I’ve been traveling, I’ve started to write down these ideas...for songs. I didn’t want to show you until I thought of the perfect one.”

Tamaki sat down at the piano. Kyoya stood on the other side of the small room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. For the last week, he’d been hearing Tamaki play day and night, but he hadn’t actually seen it. It had been a long time since he’d seen it.

“I named this song Kyoto. It’s about our trip there. The latest one.”

Tamaki started to play. The song flowed through the room, a waterfall of melody. As Kyoya listened, he was transported back to that moment of walking with Tamaki in the garden, the way the winter light fell through the plum blossoms, that first breath of falling snow, and that sad, peculiar feeling, longing for something just out of reach.

Kyoya watched Tamaki’s quiet, concentrated face, the way his hands moved with such precision over the keys, the way his back arched when he reached for the right note. He played and played, and Kyoya let himself listen.

“What do you think?” asked Tamaki, as the last note faded, turning to face him.

“Why are you playing this for me now?” Kyoya asked.

“You don’t listen to the masters,” said Tamaki. “I thought I would try my own. I don’t think you’re hearing what I want to say.”

Kyoya studied him. So, he wanted to, again. So, he wanted to start something that perhaps he couldn’t already see the end of. Kyoya was used to knowing the outcome ahead of time, before other people.

In this case he surprised himself. Kyoya didn’t place bets he wasn’t sure of winning, in business. Certainly never one he already felt confident he would lose. But this one seemed worth gambling on. The joy now was so great, that the pain later, however much, would surely be worth it.

Kyoya was crossing the room, before he knew what he was doing, and Tamaki was standing up, and Kyoya pulled him forward and kissed him hard.

“Thank God,” Tamaki breathed. “Thank you. Finally. I thought you would never let it happen again.”

And then he kissed back with something deep and answering. 

The last time was gentle but this time everything was rough and hungry. Tamaki hurriedly unbuttoned Kyoya’s shirt, Kyoya unzipped Tamaki’s jeans, rubbing him as they kissed. He took off his glasses and put them hastily on one of the end tables.

“Sit down,” Kyoya told Tamaki.

They were both sober this time, both painfully, totally aware of what was happening. The late afternoon sun was still slanting through the window. It was the golden hour. Everything was drenched in light.

It had to be fast, everything needed to happen in the next few minutes, or Kyoya thought he would lose his nerve. Kyoya knelt before Tamaki, who was seated on the piano bench in his underwear, legs spread, eyes wide and a little wild. Kyoya pushed down Tamaki's underwear to reveal that he was already hard.

“I’ve never done this,” he said. “I’ve read about it. I’ve studied. But I don’t have any practical experience so--”

“You could do anything,” said Tamaki, looking down at him. “You could do anything at this point. Please--I want you so much.” His hands were shaking, when he reached forward to rest them against Kyoya’s shoulders.

Kyoya took a deep breath, drinking in how gorgeous Tamaki was like this, so ready and eager, lips red and eyes wanting. He leaned forward and took Tamaki in his mouth. Tamaki made a low, humming sound. Kyoya hadn’t done it, but he had seen it done plenty of times on his computer screen. He’d read the guides. Nothing quite prepared him for the intimate feeling of Tamaki so close to him, the warm, earthy smell of him, the salty taste.

He sucked and used his hands at the base, swirled his tongue around the sensitive head. Tamaki was patient, holding himself still, guiding Kyoya with the sounds he made. It was fast. Just a few minutes later, and Tamaki said “Kyoya, I’m going to--”

There was a dissonant clang of chords from somewhere above him as Tamaki reached out a hand, trying to grip something. Kyoya pulled back. Tamaki took Kyoya’s hand, guided it to him and Kyoya stroked a few times before Tamaki’s come jetted onto his stomach.

Kyoya went to get a washcloth, cleaned Tamaki up.

“How was it?” he asked.

Tamaki laughed shakily. “You were always top of the class.”

“And you were always second place,” Kyoya smirked.

Tamaki seemed to be slowly piecing himself back together. He looked down at Kyoya. “We’ll see about that,” he said.

He led Kyoya back to the living room and sat him down on the couch, still made up with bedsheets. It felt good to be back here, with him.

“Now let’s take care of you,” said Tamaki. He was digging around in his backpack, taking out the lube and condoms from the love hotel.

“I can’t believe you kept those things,” said Kyoya. “You should get rid of them.”

“Hey! This is a top quality commoner condom! You think I would just throw something like this away?”

And Kyoya, remembering how Tamaki used to keep literal scrapbooks of commoner snack foods, sighed and said, “Probably not.”

“Besides, they’re pretty good, let’s try one on you.”

Tamaki opened one and slid it onto Kyoya’s hardening dick. It was lubed inside, and did feel pretty good.

Tamaki leaned forward to lick. “Mm cherry flavor,” he said, and Kyoya started laughing helplessly, until Tamaki started sucking on him in earnest and it turned into a strangled choking sound.

“What do you think?” Tamaki asked.

“Pretty good,” said Kyoya breathlessly. “The condom’s so thin. I can still feel really well.”

“Yeah. Felt so good when I was inside you,” said Tamaki, and Kyoya exhaled sharply. “I’ve been thinking about that. A lot.”

Tamaki pulled Kyoya to the edge of the couch, adding lube to his hand.

“Did you like this?” he asked, as he slid his finger over Kyoya’s entrance.

Kyoya nodded and Tamaki pushed upward, sliding his finger inside at the same time he took Kyoya’s cock in his mouth. Kyoya moaned, gripping Tamaki’s hair.

Tamaki’s fingers found the sweet spot inside him while he was sucking on him. 

It was too much. It was so good. It took Kyoya a few minutes to realize that Tamaki was drawing it out, using the condom’s slight dulling of sensation to make it last, bringing Kyoya closer and then backing off, changing the angle of his touch, or moving his mouth to place delicate kisses on the insides of Kyoya’s thighs. He was calmly and deliberately driving Kyoya insane. And Kyoya let him, let it happen, let Tamaki drive him higher and higher until every touch felt like it would shatter him.

When he finally came it was so intense, he was gasping, his legs were shaking. Tamaki came back up and gave him a cherry flavored kiss. It did taste delicious.

“Let’s take a nap,” said Tamaki, after they cleaned up. He climbed back onto the couch, tucked Kyoya under his arm.

“Okay,” said Kyoya, already drifting off.

It was the best sleep he’d had all week.

~~~

They both woke up in the middle of the night, starving. Tamaki heated up the food and they ate together at the table for the first time in a while.

“Will you play for me some more?” Kyoya asked, when they were done.

So Tamaki sat back down at the piano, and Kyoya, finding the chairs too far away, sat down on the carpet near the piano to listen. Tamaki took breaks in between songs, full of energy and things to say, and Kyoya thought how quiet it had been, how much they had to catch up on after just a week.

Eventually, Tamaki also came to lie down beside Kyoya on the floor of the solarium, looking out at the twinkling of the Tokyo Sky Tree, a carpet of lights shimmering, the hum of the city so far below them. It had the feeling of the late nights they spent in high school, when Tamaki would sleep over at his place, and they would sit into the early morning hours just talking, arguing, planning.

“What was it like? Seeing your mother again?” Kyoya asked. He had imagined it many times.

“It was the best feeling,” Tamaki said. “She cried. I cried. I’ll spare you since you hate emotional scenes.”

“It’s true,” Kyoya wrinkled his nose. “I can’t even watch them in movies.”

“We were so happy to be together. The family cut her off, after I left. I guess my grandmother wanted to show me she’d keep her word. But with my mother’s treatment being so affordable, and her being well, she easily got by. I stayed with her, taught piano to make money. She has a little house in Beaulieu-sur-Mer. You would like it there. All the streets wind around into the hillsides, with all these colorful houses, and beautiful gardens. It’s peaceful. Quiet. You can smell the ocean.”

“That does sound nice,” said Kyoya. He sighed. “I haven’t taken a vacation since I graduated from college. Since I started at the Ootori Group.”

“A vacation can be really worth taking! After staying with my mother for a year, I went traveling for a few months. I backpacked all over Europe and had a lot of adventures. There’s so much to see in the world, Kyoya. I still have so many things I want to tell you about. Or maybe we could--well. Anyway, I spent most of my savings from teaching on my travels. But after a while, I decided to come back to Tokyo. I was only here for a few hours when you found me. It was kind of spontaneous...I didn’t even have a plan of where to go.”

“Haruhi found you,” Kyoya deflected.

“But you’re the one who came,” said Tamaki. 

“Why did you come back here?” Kyoya asked. It was one of the things that had him the most curious. The one he hadn’t been able to figure out.

“I had to know something.”

“You don’t know yet?” asked Kyoya, bemused.

Tamaki hesitated. “I think I’m starting to figure it out.”

“Is it about your family?” Kyoya pressed. “I think that you should see them. At least let them know that you’re here.”

“I can’t go back,” said Tamaki. “Not yet. I always thought I could be something more than a Suoh. And...I won’t let anyone keep me from being with who I love again.”

“Hmm,” said Kyoya. He didn’t really believe that.

It was good that Tamaki got to visit with his mother. But one day, Tamaki would return to his grandmother, seeking her approval. He would marry a girl from a proper family and take over the company and live his father’s life. Kyoya understood this better than anyone. Kyoya could have ousted his own father in a hostile takeover in high school, but he hadn’t. He had handed everything back, saved the family’s face. It was for the same reason. Out of respect, out of some hope that eventually he would be seen, recognized.

Tamaki sighed. “Now, as an adult, I can’t believe that they would keep us apart. It was a terrible thing to do to a child. They’re lucky I’m not more messed up than this.”

“Yes,” said Kyoya, who empathized but did not sympathize, his own childhood being what it was. “Well, you’ve always proved resilient. Sometimes, resilient to the point of overconfidence and self delusion.”

“Are those the notes on me from your dossier? Are you going to get out your clipboard? I always thought it was kind of hot.”

“The twins were right about you,” Kyoya deadpanned. “You’ve grown up into a huge pervert.”

Tamaki laughed and shoved him. Kyoya smiled.

They were living on borrowed time, with whatever this was, Kyoya knew that. Tamaki couldn’t Peter Pan around Tokyo living in Kyoya’s apartment forever. He would have to make himself known to his family, accept his large destiny.

It would all catch up with them eventually. _But not yet_ , Kyoya thought selfishly. _Not yet._

“Well,” Kyoya said, suddenly feeling strangely shy, despite everything that had happened earlier. “I know the couch is quite comfortable now. But would you like to...come to bed?”

Tamaki beamed at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon for the Kyoto song is "Sea Change" by Stephan Moccio. Also, while writing this fic I've played The Strokes "Bad Decisions" about 1000 times.


	9. Chapter 9

Thus began what was probably the happiest month of Kyoya’s life. The weather was just starting to turn over, the dreary end of winter exploding into the brilliant technicolor of spring. Every day was unseasonably warm, soft and sunny, not a cloud in the sky.

Kyoya and Tamaki made love in every room of the house. They swam together in Kyoya’s barely used penthouse swimming pool, kissed in the onsen looking out over the city. Tamaki cooked dinner, and Kyoya sat on the counter, licked the spoon suggestively, ended up laughing as Tamaki climbed on top of him. They sat on the couch together and Tamaki nudged closer and closer until Kyoya just closed his laptop already and let him go about his business.

Kyoya used to only leave the office for lunch twice a week, and that was for his afternoon treadmill run. But he suddenly started to leave for lunch every day. He canceled all of his weekend plans, all of his evening appointments. His colleagues found that he stopped responding to their urgent emails as soon as he left work. His assistant found that he was suddenly never available, and had no idea how she was supposed to get London and Los Angeles on the phone at the same time.

Kyoya knew that he was letting things slide. He knew that it was probably obvious to everyone that something was going on, that he wasn’t himself. He absolutely could not bring himself to care. Every hour, every _minute_ , that Tamaki was allowing this to happen was too precious to waste.

They still went out on Tamaki’s various silly adventures, but Kyoya didn’t mind them so much now. He had caught onto the fact that maybe they weren’t such a waste of time, that maybe, in fact, they were the only time he spent really living, free from the yokes of work and ambition. They went to theme parks and museums. Plays and symphonies. Loud arcades and quiet bars.

Tamaki was still the hopeless romantic, but it came out differently than it had in his usual host club act. His flirting was more silly, playful. His romantic gestures were more small and simple—gallantly giving Kyoya the last dumpling at dinner, running ahead to catch a cab for them, letting his arm fall asleep because Kyoya was resting his head on it.

Kyoya had never been one for flowery words or passionate displays. Even at the host club, the girls had liked him most for his standoffishness, not for any effort he put towards charming them.

He could only show his feelings through his actions, as he always had, going along with Tamaki’s crazy ideas, making Tamaki’s dreams into realities. He left helpful suggestions of things he knew Tamaki would enjoy. A fireworks display, an airplane exhibit, a performance of Beethoven's Third at the concert hall.

He kept it to himself, but he even impulsively bought a beautiful mansion overlooking the ocean in Beaulieu-sur-Mer. He could easily afford it, but it was so out of nowhere that his financial advisor called at midnight to ask him what the hell he was thinking, and Kyoya said he thought it would just be nice to have, in case.

Sometimes, during that month, Kyoya woke up in the middle of the night gripped with a terrible fear, a deep clenching in his stomach. He knew what was going to happen. And the feeling of it was harsh, like a father’s slap, in the main salon, in front of everyone. Kyoya knew it was coming, expected it. But it was worse for knowing how much it would hurt. Still, every time, he looked over at Tamaki sleeping peacefully, his mouth slack, his golden hair spilling across the pillow, and he thought, _It’s worth it. It’s all worth it. If I can have this, then I don't care how it ends._

~~~

In early April, the Ootori family threw their annual spring benefit for the children’s hospital. The event was a masked ball. Tamaki insisted on attending, arguing that with a mask he wouldn’t be recognized. His father hadn’t RSVPed, and the entire host club was on the guest list. Kyoya eventually relented and got him an anonymous invitation.

As expected, Tamaki was completely overexcited about the idea of a team cosplay. He bombarded their group thread with images of people in traditional Italian renaissance carnivale outfits.

“Uhh I thought you didn’t want to be recognized?” Haruhi texted. “Won’t this make you stand out...a lot?”

“Yeah the invitation says regular formalwear and masks. This is our lord’s dumbest idea ever,” added Hikaru.

“If he doesn’t want to be recognized, he should hide his hair. Maybe wear a creepy robe. Go full Nekozawa,” Kaoru followed up. Hani and Mori both added a like.

“You idiot, you think I would cover up these gorgeous looks under some dark cape?” asked Tamaki followed by twenty crying emojis.

“Everyone just wear a goddamn tuxedo,” Kyoya finally had to write, to get them all to shut up.

~~~

On the evening of the benefit, the Ouran High School Host Club reunited. Haruhi looked amazing in the sleek tux that the twins had tailored for her. Everyone wore masks. The twins’ masks were capped with pointy jester hats. Hani wore a bunny mask, and Mori a mouse. Haruhi’s was delicate lace. Kyoya carried his, he didn’t want to bother wearing it over his glasses.

Kyoya arranged for them all to sit together at the same table, though he couldn’t join them. It was a work dinner for him. He sat with his father and brothers and the few people they wanted to do business with most.

He did his best to pay attention during dinner, but he couldn’t help shooting envious glances at the table where all of his friends were talking and laughing. He was pleased that they were having a good time. This was where Tamaki truly belonged, in the middle of an adoring group. Not hidden away in Kyoya’s apartment.

Tamaki was so gorgeous in the new tuxedo Kyoya had bought for him, his face and bright hair were carefully hidden behind a mask adorned with tall, ostentatious feathers. Kyoya found himself flushing as he stared, thinking of the way he would slide the tuxedo jacket over Tamaki’s shoulders later, the way he would slowly unbutton his shirt, kiss his way down Tamaki’s body…

In his temporary distraction, he missed most of what his colleague was saying to the group at his own table. He just caught the end of it.

“--nice to meet his lovely wife. And I think it’s so nice that your youngest son has lunch with his sweetheart every day.”

“What’s this, Kyoya?” asked his father.

Kyoya felt like someone had dumped cold water into his veins. “Nothing,” he said, and laughed in a way that he hoped was normal. “It must be a mistake. Too many business lunches.”

“Ah, apologies,” his colleague blushed.

The conversation continued as usual, but Kyoya felt uneasy for the remainder of dinner. When they had finished, the crowd was ushered into another room for cocktails before the charity auction.

Kyoya went to join the Host Club for a bit. They were all talking and joking, unconcerned. Kyoya got a cocktail and felt his heart rate returning to normal. Until he looked up and noticed that his father and brothers were conversing, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

He felt his ears burning and Tamaki chose that moment to sling an arm over his shoulders. It was a normal, casual gesture. Something a friend would do. So small that almost certainly no one would notice, but Kyoya could feel his father’s eyes on him.

“Get your hands off me,” he hissed.

The conversation stopped around him, Kaoru’s mouth still open in the middle of the story he was telling, Hani’s fork halfway to the extra piece of cake Mori had stolen from the dessert cart. Haruhi’s huge eyes looked at him, accusing, searching for the reason behind the sudden venom in his voice. Tamaki immediately withdrew his arm.

Suddenly Kyoya couldn’t get enough air.

“Excuse me,” he said, and stepped away as they all watched him uneasily. He pushed through the crowd until he somehow found a door that led to a small patio area. There was one person out there smoking, but at the no doubt terrifying look Kyoya gave him, he immediately extinguished his cigarette and made for the safety of the party.

Kyoya stood there for a minute, taking in the cool evening, looking up at the light-polluted, starless Tokyo sky. He heard the door open and close again behind him.

“I’m sorry,” said Tamaki. Kyoya turned to look. Tamaki had taken off his mask. It had left a faint indentation under his eyes, ruffled his hair. He looked sweet, a little silly, like that. Faintly undone. Kyoya felt something soften in him, and then was immediately irritated with himself for it.

“You can’t act that way, here,” he said, his voice deliberate and cold.

“I know,” said Tamaki. “I’m sorry. I know.”

There was a long pause.

“Maybe I should just go,” said Tamaki. He shot Kyoya a furtive look, as though trying to find some guidance, to figure out what exactly Kyoya wanted. “I heard from someone that my father might show up for the auction portion. You know how he likes to steal all the attention by making a big, splashy donation at the last second.”

Kyoya did know. It reminded him of someone else he knew. 

Tamaki wanted to leave, Kyoya realized. He didn’t want to be here to face his father. Kyoya couldn’t say why that annoyed him so much. Needled him under the skin. He didn’t understand this, he didn’t understand why Tamaki kept running away, refusing to face reality.

“I think that you should stay,” Kyoya said. “Now is as good a time as any to meet him.”

“I told you I’m not interested in that,” said Tamaki in a low voice. He seemed to sense Kyoya’s mood, to sense the high, sudden stakes of this conversation.

“If you’re not going to see your family, why did you come back here at all?” Kyoya demanded. He had asked too many times now, and he made it clear with his tone that he wasn’t going to ask again.

Tamaki had that look on his face, like he was about to tell Kyoya what he knew he didn’t want to hear. There was of course some reason, something he thought Kyoya wouldn’t like, wouldn’t approve of, wouldn’t accept. It must be something terrible, Kyoya thought, for his face to look like that. Tamaki tilted up his chin and squared his shoulders, bracing himself, Kyoya thought, and he said, “I had to know if you were still in love with me.”

The earth tilted briefly on its axis as Kyoya’s brain struggled to take that in.

“Still...” Kyoya said. “Still?”

“I know that you always have been,” said Tamaki. It was the most arrogant, conceited thing a person could say, but in Tamaki’s case of course it was true. Of course he would know. How many people had been in love with Tamaki in his life? So many. _So many._ More than half of their high school. Probably each one of his many college lovers. Probably a string of heartbroken people he had left across Europe.

Kyoya felt humiliated. He had thought Tamaki would never know. He had denied it so well that he barely knew it himself. But it must have been obvious, to a person who could easily recognize the signs. A love confession that Kyoya didn’t even have to make. _You were always there, weren’t you_ , he thought. Always sitting next to him in class, walking down the hall at his side, standing just behind him to greet the host club guests. Waiting for his casual touch or kind word. The shadow king. His shadow. 

“Are you?” Tamaki asked.

Kyoya was reeling. What did Tamaki want from him? Hadn’t he dealt with it in the best way he knew how? Stepped aside, for Haruhi, in fact brought them together, because that’s what Tamaki always said he wanted.

Kyoya had a plan. He was prepared to step aside. He was prepared to spend his whole life wondering. He wasn’t prepared to answer that question. It was so unfair, the whole situation.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, slowly, as though explaining to a stupid child. “Because we can never really be together. Even you can’t be so naive.”

Tamaki flinched like he’d been struck. “We are together,” he said. “What do you think this is?”

 _What do I think this is?_ _Is that a joke?_ Kyoya distantly noticed himself becoming angry. Very angry, in the way only Tamaki had ever made him. Only Tamaki could be so dense, so oblivious, that he would actually make Kyoya say it. That he would force Kyoya to spell it out, when saying it would probably kill him.

Kyoya had a sudden flash of childhood memory, pushing Tamaki, shoving him in a rage he couldn’t contain without physical manifestation. That same feeling, thinking Tamaki must be mocking him. This time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push him away or pull him forward, but he did neither. He restrained himself. He wasn’t that lonely, calculating little boy anymore. Instead, he settled for making hard fists with nails digging into his palms.

“This is a—a fling,” he forced out. “A temporary dalliance. You know that it will never be accepted, that you’ll have a proper arranged marriage, and go back to the life you’re supposed to live. When you go back to your family, you know that it will end. And when are you going to finally just _do it_? When are you going to go back to them and take responsibility and accept your place?”

Tamaki just looked at him steadily. Finally he said, “Why do you keep asking me that?”

Kyoya was wrongfooted, surprised by the question. Tamaki, once again, was meeting his anger with something calm and quiet. And it just made Kyoya more furious. He felt shaken, disrupted, so much emotion that he always kept bottled in rising to the surface, his blood fizzing like soda water.

“Because—that’s just the way it is. That’s just the way it has to be. What we’ve been doing is stupid, and irresponsible. Your family will never accept you if we continue this. You could lose everything that you’ve been working for. You could lose everything you value, everything that’s important.”

Tamaki looked at Kyoya, his eyes too dark in the low light, his expression unreadable. He looked at Kyoya in that way he had, like he could see to the bottom of him. After a long moment, he said, “It sounds like that’s what you’re afraid of, not me. But if that’s really what you think, that this is just a temporary fling between two loveless marriages, then fine. We have to end it. So let’s end it now.”

“Fine,” Kyoya bit out. He pushed past Tamaki and made his way back into the party. It was better to be the one to walk away. It was better to be the one to do it first.

He watched from a distance, milling through the crowd, as Tamaki took leave of their friends and walked out the door. He sat through the charity auction, and then the long, tedious business negotiations afterward. He stayed long after the party was over, until the cleaning crew arrived, listening to his father and brothers endlessly debate whether they should just buy out Nakamura Medical the following day. It seemed there was no limit, to the things Kyoya could force himself to do tonight.

When he finally left, it was very late. The first spring drizzle of April was starting to fall. He offered his arm to help Fuyumi down the stairs, her high heels clacking as she held the train of her gauzy evening gown out of the damp.

When they reached the sidewalk, she took a look at him, and she must have seen something there because she squeezed his arm, a gentle pressure, before letting go.

“Kyoya, you have to stop working so hard,” she said, as always, before her chauffeur rushed up to shield her with an umbrella.

Something clicked faintly in Kyoya’s brain and he thought, _Maybe I do._ He always worked so hard, worked himself into the ground, worked himself down to nothing. All trying to be something he could probably never be. Maybe he had to stop.

He waved his own driver off, saying he would walk. He was less than a mile from home and he thought the cool night air would clear his head.

A fog was coming over the city, leaving everything misty and unclear, lights bleeding through it faintly. Kyoya let his feet guide him home, firmly not thinking about what he would find there.

He was fine, he thought, surprised at himself. It didn’t even hurt, as he expected it would. He just felt a cool numbness. Maybe he had already been detaching himself this whole time. That would have been smart, that would have been like him, to let go subconsciously in expectation of this eventuality.

Thoughts of Tamaki inevitably came up as he navigated the dark, quiet streets. Kyoya couldn’t believe how foolish his friend was, how shortsighted. All Tamaki needed to do was look at his own family for proof of the misery forbidden love could cause.

Really, he thought, all he had done was tell Tamaki the truth. Maybe a harsh truth. But it was what he needed to hear. And Tamaki was right, everything he'd said applied to himself as well. Kyoya couldn’t act so rashly either. He had his future to think of, he had the company, he had his father’s approval. He couldn’t lose sight of everything he valued...of everything that was important…

He had to say those things...didn’t he? He had to do this...didn’t he?

He was crossing the street a few blocks from his apartment when all of the feelings he had been suppressing during the party crashed into him with so much force that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t push air into his lungs, had to stop walking and double over. The feeling was so strong that he had to look around him to make sure that he hadn’t just been hit by a car. But the headlights whizzed by in both directions, following all the laws of traffic, and it was only him standing still in the middle of a crosswalk, stricken motionless, struggling to understand what he had just done.

He was running, before he was even aware enough to send that command to his body. He’d never been known for his athletic prowess, but he reflected as he raced the few blocks home, that this must be what every annoying treadmill run he had ever done in his life was for. He ripped off his bowtie, gasping to get more air as his perfectly shined dress shoes tore down the pavement.

He slammed through the front door of his building, ignoring the doorman’s startled “Good evening, Ootori-sama,” and dashed into the elevator. Even after the doors closed, he pushed the button for his floor repeatedly like a toddler, urging the lift on faster and silently cursing himself for choosing the fifty second story.

When the elevator opened, Kyoya burst in through his own front door and raced through every room of the house calling Tamaki’s name. But everything was dark, and quiet. Tamaki wasn’t there, his backpack wasn’t there. Tamaki was gone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes coming up on my self-imposed end of september deadline to finish this fic, so don't worry, this won't be left hanging for long!


	10. Chapter 10

Tamaki was gone, every trace of him. Kyoya tried texting and calling but of course Tamaki didn’t answer. Why should he, after all the things Kyoya had said to him?

Kyoya stood in his empty living room, staring out over the city. Would it be another three years until he saw Tamaki again? No. That was unacceptable. Even seven days of vaguely avoiding him in the same apartment had been beyond the limits of tolerance.

The idea of being apart from Tamaki made Kyoya reconsider all of his old doubts. They were both from controlling, traditional families. If they were met with disapproval, it could unfortunately mean more than not being chosen as their fathers’ successors, they could be completely disinherited. Tamaki could lose everything.

But Tamaki, in his typical way, hadn’t been bluffing or playing a game. He’d really meant it. Kyoya realized that now. He truly didn’t care about losing the money, the position. He had been showing Kyoya all this time that he was determined to go his own way. Live his own life.

Why did Kyoya care so much? Why did it matter if he was chosen as his father’s successor? He was competitive. He loved the game. But wasn’t it the ultimate sunk cost, to throw more years away on a game that left him feeling like he had lost even as he was winning? He was already rich beyond anyone’s wildest measure. Independently successful in business. He had nothing to prove to anyone.

It was that need, to be seen, to be recognized. But in the last few months with Tamaki, he had felt more seen, more recognized, more happy, more _loved_ than he ever had in his life.

Tamaki had a way of making the world expand, so that Kyoya saw it, and himself, in a different way. So that Kyoya knew what was possible. It was possible that he, too, could live his own life, that he could go outside the boundaries that had been set for him.

And he was going to start living that life. He was going to start right now. He just needed to think. If he thought about it, he would be able to guess where Tamaki would go.

Tamaki barely had the money for a plane ticket, certainly not enough for a last-minute late night flight. Their friends from the Host Club had all been at the party, and he wouldn’t have asked any of them for help. He wouldn’t go home. But he would want to go somewhere like home. Kyoya knew where he must be, then. He called for his car and told his driver to head for Bunkyo.

~~~

The Ouran campus was quiet, deserted at this time of night. Under the clock tower, the sakura trees were in the fullest part of their bloom.

He found Tamaki sitting cross legged on the rim of the fountain, which was shut off for the night, looking into the rippling, moonlit water.

“You’re going to be arrested for vagrancy, if you stay here like this,” Kyoya called out. “This is a high school.” Tamaki’s back straightened at the sound of his voice. Not the best opening line, Kyoya realized, after it was already out of his mouth.

“I think we all know how to evade the security guards by now,” Tamaki replied, his voice was amused. “All those late nights here.”

Tamaki didn’t turn around. Kyoya came closer, until he could see part of his friend’s face. Even in the dark, he could tell that Tamaki’s eyes were swollen, his nose rimmed red. Kyoya hated to see it, hated it more than anything in his life, he never wanted to see Tamaki like that again. He would never, never, never be the cause of it again.

“I shouldn’t have--said those things,” Kyoya sighed. He wasn’t good at apologies.

“No,” Tamaki agreed. His usually friendly, open face was shuttered. He looked uneasy, without his normal blustering confidence.

“As you said, they were meant for me, and not for you.”

Tamaki nodded.

Kyoya was not good with romantic speeches or passionate declarations. He was the kind of man who was good at providing and protecting. Who was good at taking care of someone, looking after all their needs and interests. Who would love wholly and constantly and forever but would never be good at talking about it. Tamaki knew all this.

He was here, now. Tamaki must know what that meant.

“I am, still…” he tried to say.

“I know,” said Tamaki. Then, after a beat, he said, “You’re much easier to deal with when you’re drunk as hell.”

Kyoya snorted. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“That’s the only time I could really tell. You couldn’t stop looking at me that night. And I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“Is that so?” asked Kyoya mildly. He sat down next to Tamaki on the concrete edge of the fountain, and Tamaki shifted to face him.

“I'm in love with you,” Tamaki said. Bluntly, flatly. Stating a fact, with nothing flowery about it. “When we were young, I...wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t know what I wanted. And as we got older, I thought that you would never allow it to happen. But when I found out you got my mother into that clinical trial I thought maybe...you still cared enough for there to be a chance. I came back here to see you. I was still figuring out what to say but you found me, and I thought that was a sign. I thought that meant you were looking for me all this time.”

“I was,” said Kyoya.

Tamaki smiled, so bright, lighting up the dark night around them. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see my father, but I think I’m ready to go back now. I know my parents are both good people, and so is my grandmother, despite everything. I’m not sure if I’ll ever want to take over the family business. There are a million things I could do--go to music school, teach, compose. With a brain like mine, I could still invent something really amazing. You’d help me with the business side, right Kyoya? There are a million things you could do too.”

Kyoya gave him an annoyed sigh at his typical scatterbrained approach to life, but at the same time, he thought perhaps that was true. There were a million things he could do.

“Anyway,” Tamaki continued, “I believe my family will accept whatever choices I make, in time. Other people tend to accept you when you accept yourself first.”

“You may be right,” Kyoya conceded.

“And I think we can tackle anything, if we do it together.”

It was Kyoya's turn to smile. It reminded him of Tamaki holding out a hand, saying _let's start a club_ , the first time he looked at Kyoya and saw to the passionate heart beneath the cold, indifferent exterior. “I suppose you always thought that a romantic like you and someone with a more practical nature would make a good match.”

“Practical, you?” Tamaki scoffed. “Sorry, my friend. You’re a romantic like me.”

Kyoya thought about all the things he had done for Tamaki’s sake, and all the things he had been in his life, that he thought he would never be. A host, a business leader, a true friend. In love.

And he said, “Maybe you’re right about that too.”

He couldn’t help his always calculating mind skipping ten steps ahead. 

Kyoya felt that he could look into their future, that he could predict it with 99% accuracy. If they were lucky, and none of the variables changed too much, if their life expectancy was average—which was likely as they were both healthy and had reasonably good genetics especially with a cure for Tamaki’s mother’s disease—they would have about sixty years together. And if they had sixty years together, sixty more spring blossoms and first snowfalls, valentines days and summer vacations, their lives would be full of joy, and lightness, and adventure. Tamaki would never learn to do laundry. Kyoya would never be good with confronting emotions. But they would be happy. They would have one another to rely on.

Kyoya would refuse an arranged marriage one day, and displease his father. It was a shame, he thought, because under other circumstances his father would be thrilled to be united with an ancient and powerful family like the Suohs. Perhaps he still would be, if Kyoya played it right.

They could live here, or in France. Kyoya would have to learn to speak the language but he was confident in his abilities. He loved the way French sounded, in Tamaki’s voice.

He and Tamaki could have or adopt children, if Tamaki desired it--that’s where he stopped himself. No need to think that far ahead. Perhaps a dog first. Tamaki loved dogs.

“You’ve already planned out our whole life together, haven’t you?” asked Tamaki, peering at him keenly.

“Don’t be absurd,” said Kyoya. “Getting a little ahead of ourselves aren’t we? I think a prenuptial agreement is warranted on both sides first.”

And Tamaki laughed, and swatted him playfully, and then kissed him deeply.

Maybe someday, in the office above, their fathers would look out over Ouran Academy and discuss the two of them with pride, for the life they would lead together, the empire they would build. Who knew. Greater miracles had happened. People could change, Kyoya knew now. Grow. Sometimes it just took someone else, to show them how to paint outside the same frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this brought you some happiness if you, like me, will be forever haunted by this 2006 anime episode and how great these boys would be together. I wanted this story to mirror the arc of the episode, with Tamaki's seemingly random actions leading Kyoya to his emotions and, eventually, self acceptance. I have read approx one trillion fanfictions, but this is the first time I’ve tried to write something like this (the first time I've looked for this exact thing and not found it immediately and tried to write it myself. Be the change you want to see in the world I guess lol).  
> Hope you enjoyed this story. Next is a small bonus chapter :)
> 
> Also [here](https://imgur.com/a/6E8N8FM) is some beautiful fanart of the ending kiss by [lauryn.artist](https://www.instagram.com/lauryn.artist/?hl=en) on Instagram. Thank you!!! They're all gorgeous but the rainbow version is especially pretty <3


	11. Bonus Chapter

Kyoya kept planning to say it. They were getting older. Nearly thirty now. Everyone was settling down.

Things had become everyday, domestic, between them. Close and comfortable, showering while the other person shaved in the same room, putting their feet on the coffee table beside each other. Kyoya paid half attention to what Tamaki said over breakfast when he was barely awake, and got that annoyed look later when it came up again.

Kyoya said other things instead, when he meant to say it.

One Valentine’s day he came home and found what looked like a small explosion in the kitchen. Tamaki was wearing some kind of ridiculous Sanrio apron, his hair full of melted chocolate.

“I wanted to make fondue,” Tamaki said.

Kyoya kissed some chocolate off the side of his face and almost said it but instead he said, “You never bore me.”

On one of their trips to their summer house in France, Kyoya was in the middle of brokering a huge deal between two rival pharmaceutical companies, sitting on the beach without looking up from his phone. 

Tamaki was talking. Kyoya wasn’t really listening. Tamaki made his cute, puppy-asking-for-attention face, and Kyoya eventually looked up, very irritated, and Tamaki said, “Just look at the sunset!”

Kyoya hadn’t noticed that the day had passed, or that the sun was setting, but it was so unexpected and so beautiful, the sky was full of wild pink, and deep blue, and streaks of violet that reminded him of Tamaki’s eyes. Kyoya almost said it but instead he said, “Fine,” and put his phone away, and felt Tamaki’s hand cover his own.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t...codependent?” asked Haruhi, one time when she came by for dinner. She watched the way Tamaki and Kyoya divided the groceries and takeout containers, moving around the kitchen seamlessly and without speaking.

Tamaki just smiled that secret smile, the one that was only for the two of them. He said, “I know what it is.” Tamaki didn’t seem to mind the way Kyoya never said it. He seemed to take it as a given.

The closest Kyoya came to saying it was the night of Hani’s wedding. The wedding took place outdoors in a floral scented garden. There were many black candles and gothic elements, because of Reiko, and there was a cake the size of a small skyscraper, because of Hani. It was a beautiful night, emotions were running high, the whole host club was there and it was overwhelming to see all of them, to see all of them so grown up and so different.

Tamaki got a little drunk. He was dancing like crazy, he was the best and loudest and brightest thing about the whole evening. In the car on the way home, he leaned his head against Kyoya’s shoulder and said, “I can’t believe it. It's all going by so fast.”

Kyoya almost said it but instead he just put his arm around Tamaki, pulled him closer, and said, “I know.”

As the years went on, the opportunities to say the words aloud came thicker and faster until Kyoya felt like he was always on the verge of saying it.

That one time when Tamaki was above him, inside him, and it felt so good, and he thought he would never stop wanting this so much, he whispered it into the pillows but it just came out a strangled _mmph_. 

That time when Tamaki was playing Debussy in the late afternoon light and Kyoya thought about saying it, but couldn’t stand to break his concentration.

That time when Tamaki was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and Kyoya actually said it, but Tamaki didn’t turn his head. Kyoya’s heart lurched hard in his chest, but when he came closer he saw that Tamaki was wearing his earbuds, humming softly to himself.

Until finally one summer morning, in the south of France, they were taking their usual walk along the beach, Antoinette coursing ahead over the sand. Kyoya commented on something, he barely remembered what, and Tamaki turned to him and smiled. That smile that Kyoya would do anything for, more beautiful than the slow curve as the stock market rose, more valuable than any priceless antique in the family showroom.

Kyoya felt it more than ever, and he thought maybe Tamaki would hear it, over the rush of the wind, the roar of the ocean. He gathered up everything inside himself. He grabbed Tamaki’s arm, and leaned in, said it into Tamaki’s ear.

“I love you,” he said.

The light was shining in Tamaki’s eyes, and he was nodding, like he couldn’t quite speak, but he reached out, a bridge between them, and they were holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this story, thank you for reading! <3  
> I'd love to hear what you thought and I absolutely treasure every comment and kudos!  
> Feel free to say hi or ask me anything on [tumblr](https://poodlepunk.tumblr.com/post/632657212246048768/moodboard-for-my-fic-and-so-kyoya-met-him-again) :)
> 
> Next in the series is Tamaki's side of this story.


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